


The Chilling Exorcism Of Annaliese Michel

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demonic Possession, Shane's a doctor, Vague setting, idk the time period either, leaning towards ireland, maybe 70s, or is it?!, ryan's a priest, who cares bro, writing this has creeped me out, you can see how it's gonna go downnnn boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Michels have an ill daughter. The Michels are also a religious family. This is bad news for the local doctor, who finds a competitor in the new priest in town.When strange events begin to bring them together, an even stranger bond begins to form, whether they like it or not.





	1. Faith and Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why shane smokes in this. it just suited it
> 
> also I'M SORRY the road trip fic is on hold for a while because the concept for this story got into my head and it would not leave no matter how much i begged it to. also i only really write for fun and as a hobby so i don't want to take it too seriously woops

It was a town. A small town. Pretty rural, pretty lonely. It was the type of town that seemed to wear the color gray like a nun wears a habit; draped over it, keeping its smiling face to the world, but hiding what made it what it really was. A town that was pleasant to pass through, to view on a fleeting visit, but living there was different. Not that anyone could really put a finger on why. Why the air always seemed heavy, why the trees never seemed to bloom fully, why the sun seemed to struggle to come through the clouds. No one could put a finger on it, but no one tried to, either. It was a question that the residents of the town were happy to leave unanswered. 

The town was marked by three things; the forest, the lake, and the main street. And the main street was marked by three things; the fountain, the hospital, and the church. The street consisted of other small shops, of course, ranging from a Walmart to a florist's to a strange witch-doctor shop that always smelled of incense and spices. But two buildings towered over the rest, however; the church, and the hospital. And between them lay the fountain. It didn't really work anymore; none of the spouts were operational, so it was just a pool of eternally still water, a mirror in the center of the street.

The church was a giant, its Gothic spires reaching for the clouded heavens above. Most of the time, its main spire was hidden amidst the low cloud, black fading to gray fading to nothing. Even on the driest of days, the brick looked damp to touch. Cold. Clammy. Shane had never set foot inside, but he could see it every day from his office. Every damn day. The hospital he worked in wasn't particularly modern-looking; it was a small town, so a small hospital would do. But across from the church, it looked like it could've been built by aliens visiting the planet.

Anyway, it wasn't that Shane had a problem with the building itself. The stonework was undeniably beautiful, and it was a monument to history, in a way. That was how he saw it. No, it only annoyed him because it blocked the very little sunlight that could get into his office from getting in. And sunlight was a scarce luxury around here. Right now, he needed sunlight. He needed something to brighten up his day. It had been a troubling morning for him, it really had. Well, a troubling morning and a troubling night.

He hadn't thought much about the dream. He was pretty convinced it was just vivid sleep paralysis. He'd just been dozing, waiting for his alarm clock to blare again, and he'd heard the gravelly voice.

_"Are you awake?"_

Shane's eyes had snapped open at the voice, his heart thudding in his chest. And for a long few minutes, his racing heart was the only sound. He didn’t sit up. He didn’t move at all. It was the sort of fear where you’re quite literally frozen in place. Like a possum playing dead. He began to relax again, letting out the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. It was just sleep paralysis, just a mental slip from his REM sleep. That's all.

_"I'm here."_

He didn't move an inch. Even as the alarm clock started ringing, he refused to put a hand out to silence it. He could feel the cold, clammy sweat breaking out over him. And the feeling of something getting closer. Something moving towards him, slowly, slyly. It was going to appear over his covers at any moment. It was going to reach out an inky hand, and it was going to take him.

"No." He said the words before he even knew what he was doing, his throat tight. "No!"

He could almost feel it. The voice pausing, the owner waiting.

_"Someone will let me."_

Shane had practically melted as the unbearable weight in the room suddenly lifted. He'd sat up, silenced his alarm clock, got ready for work. He'd simply gone about his day, as he would any normal day. He was a man of science, after all. And sleep paralysis wasn't exactly uncommon for him, anyway.

It was later that he truly felt unsettled. A 16-year-old girl, Annaliese Michel, brought in by her mother for a consultation. She had been experiencing bouts of unconsciousness. She felt like something was pressing down on her chest at night, pinning her to her bed. But more recently, she was beginning to experience seizure-like symptoms. Strange visions of the woods, of the clouds, of a cloaked figure, of a woman in white. Shane organized for a brain scan to be done, and left it at that. 

So now he was sitting, waiting for the results. No, he wasn't just sitting. He was restless. He was fidgeting, pacing, thinking. He needed to get out for five minutes, or ten minutes, or twenty.

Shane stepped out into the cool air of the street, shrugging his black funnel coat on, keeping his chin tucked behind the high collar as he slipped a cigarette into his mouth. It was quiet. It was always quiet. Sometimes he wasn't even sure why he stayed in the town, it was... His thoughts trailed off as he heard the laughter. Genuine laughter, from across the street. He moved a few steps sideways, peering around the silent fountain like a sitcom character around a wall. The heavy wooden doors of the church were wide open, and he could see people. Talking, chatting, and also providing the laughter. In a town where everyday varied only slightly, this was very unusual. Shane found himself circling the moss-covered stone of the fountain, taking the steps to the church two at a time, hands in his pockets. The actual mass itself appeared to be over. Yet everyone was still around, relaxed, sitting along the benches with cups of coffee and tea and little plates of cookies. The masses usually ended in the few people who attended trudging out, looking downtrodden, disinterested. This was different. And Shane instantly saw why.

The new priest was, first of all, not an old white man. He was young, and full of life, even at this distance. His smile was sunshine in a gesture, his eyes sparkled with genuine interest in those around him. And secondly, he was good-looking. So much so that Shane wondered if the whole thing was some sort of joke. Well-built, with a sharp jaw, and dark hair that matched his dark eyes. He hadn't noticed Shane yet, it seemed. Unlike some of the other attendants. A few of the people still in the church seemed surprised to see Shane, understandably. A few puzzled nods thrown his way, to which he responded with his usual smooth smile, a smile that said 'I always know what's going on'. Even if he had literally no idea.

“Doctor Madej, isn’t it?”

Shane turned to face the owner of the voice, immediately taking the hand extended towards him, giving it a firm shake. “Uh, yes. It is.” The shorter man’s grip was strong, so unlike the older priests, who shook hands like wet fish.

The priest smiled up at him, open and welcoming. “I’ll admit, it’s not often a man of science wanders in.”

“I was wondering what the commotion was.” Shane spared him an easy smile. “Curiosity got the better of me.”

“Probably why you’re a doctor.”

“Mm. A large part.” He gestured around at the chattering crowd. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Ah. At least someone likes it.” The priest gave a small shrug. “I didn’t exactly get much approval when I suggested changing stuff up a bit.”

"What made you want to change it up?" asked Shane, finding it odd for the church to be filled with casual chatter.

"Oh, there's this Jewish practice called _kiddush_ , I think." He shrugged. "They share food at the end of their mass. I just thought it was a nice idea."

"But this church didn't."

"No. As expected."

Shane raised an eyebrow. “And you did it anyway?”

The shorter man smiled again. “I did it anyway.”

Shane liked that. A man with a bit of personality to him. Not found among the clergy too often.

“Well you have my approval, if it means anything,” replied Shane with an amicable nod, checking his watch. “Uh, it’s been nice meeting you. What’s the name?”

“Ryan. Ryan Bergara.”

“Well, Ryan Bergara.” Shane gave him another warm handshake, another easy smile. “I won’t promise that you’ll see me in here again, but good luck with what you’re doing anyway.”

“Means a lot, doctor. Thanks." 

Shane had continued on with his life, and Ryan with his. Annaliese's brain scan had come back, and the all-clear was given. And it had remained as such. For a while, anyway.

* * *

 _Two years later_.

Annaliese was back in his office, eighteen now. But she didn't look like an eighteen-year-old should. She looked worn out. Tired. Pale. Shane could see the anxiety, the worry etched into her face, in her mother's face. 

"Tell him, Anna," the mother was saying, holding her daughter's bloodless hand. "Go on, my love. He won't judge."

Shane sat forwards, folding his arms on the table, all sincerity. "I won't. I promise."

"I-" She swallowed, sharing another worried look with her mother. "I've been hearing things."

He waited for her to continue. "What things?"

"I hear knocking. I hear knocking on my walls." Another swallow, another wide-eyed glance at her mother. "My sisters hear them too. And... And I heard a voice. It damned me to hell." Her voice shook as she spoke, her eyes growing watery. "It damned me to hell, it did."

"What voice?" Shane frowned, not liking the dull prickles down his spine at the words. "A man? A woman?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I can't tell. Both. Neither. Just... It sounds like stone."

"Gravelly."

She nodded. "Gravelly. Yeah." A pause, where she rocked slightly in her chair. "I feel like the Devil is inside me."

A silence followed. Shane wasn't too sure how to react. Should he just tell her to calm down, to think logically? Or would she find that offensive? He wasn't sure. Religious people can be loopy sometimes.

"Alright." He cleared his throat, nodding slowly, pensively. "Alright, look. We'll give you another scan, then, if you're comfortable with it. See if anything has changed since the last time."

An appointment was made for early the next morning. Shane lead them to the door, engaging in the usual small-talk, bestowing a few comforting words upon them. Annaliese's mother waited with him, however, telling Annaliese herself to wait outside for a moment.

"Doctor, if you wouldn't mind just a quick word," she whispered, looking up at him.

He glanced at his watch, judging the time. "In private?"

"Very quick. I promise."

"...Yeah. Yeah, sure." He closed the door over, waiting for her to speak. "Are you alright?"

"We're a Christian family," she said quietly, her fingers floating up to land on the crucifix hanging around her neck. "We are. We have a statue of the Virgin Mary in Annaliese's room, and one night I was sitting with her - she was having some of the symptoms again - and she just stared at it. Silent. And her- her eyes turned black." She swallowed, blinking rapidly, as if to hold back tears. "Jet black. Ryan told us-"

"Ryan?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to reveal who he was. "Who's Ryan?"

"The priest. Across at the church. He doesn't like to be called 'father'." 

"Oh. Yes." Shane was still for a moment, his eyebrow still raised. "And why did you want to contact a priest about this?"

The mother hesitated. "If- If Annaliese is right, and the Devil is inside her, then appropriate action has to be taken."

"Mrs Michel," he said, hoping his disapproval at her thought process didn't show too much on his face. Or in his voice. "It's- It's very early on to be taking any sort of action at all. Especially drastic action. I'd advise that you wait for some results, and then we'll discuss what to do next." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Until then, don't worry. It'll be fine."

* * *

Ryan gave the door a few sharp knocks, waiting for permission to enter before doing so. He closed the door over behind him, seeing the genuine surprise flicker across the doctor's face at the sight of him. The man was seated at his desk, bathed in the cool grey morning light, his red pen poised over the paper in front of him. Usually, if a priest would dare step into his office, Shane would send him running with his tail between his legs. But really, Shane didn't mind this one that much. Not personally. Yes, he was a priest, which was a bit lame. But it just suited him. He accepted the title, but it didn’t  _become_  him. He was different from the other old boys tottering around the town, who had nothing else to their lives apart from the fact that they were priests. He was young, pretty attractive. He didn’t wear all the flashy crap that the others did; just the black suit, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the little flash of white at the bottom of his neck. He may not be the most logical, going by his occupation, but he was definitely smart. And he was up for debate. Unlike the other clergymen, who would shake in their boots the moment Shane uttered the word 'science’. Yeah, Shane may have almost liked the guy, if it wasn't for the conversation about to come.

"Good morning, doctor."

Shane watched him over the rim of his black glasses, as if waiting for him to do a cartwheel or something. "Good morning."

It was odd. They passed each other frequently enough, seeing as their main places of work were directly across the pedestrianized street from each other. But they never went past a nod of acknowledgement, maybe a smile if they were both in a particularly good mood. But they weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances. At the end of the day, they were on opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum. That was that. Yet here was Ryan, standing in Shane's office, on a Thursday afternoon.

"Nice day out," said Ryan into the quiet.

"Not really." Shane flashed him a quizzical frown. "I don't mean to sound, uh, rude or anything, but what are you doing here?"

Ryan was quiet for a long moment, wondering how to approach the subject without sounding confrontational. "The Michels dropped by the church last night. I got talking to them. They said you were very condescending in your view of their, well, their faith. In the church."

Shane blinked at this, adjusting his glasses so that he could see the other man more clearly. "Right. Well, if it helps, I didn't have any intention of doing that. I'll let them know the next time I see them."

"Yeah. About that." Ryan moved further into the room, his footsteps loud against the wooden floor. "They've told you about Annaliese, yeah?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair, one hand remaining resting on the desk to hold his beloved pen, the other arm propped on the back of his seat. He watched Ryan. Ryan watched him back. To be honest, Ryan wasn’t quite sure what to make of the guy. He seemed well-respected by the people of the town. Trusted. Loved by a few, feared by some of the others. But Ryan didn’t see anything that would make you not want to cross him. In fact, he looked friendly. An open manner about him, and eyes that didn’t need the help of his mouth to show that he was laughing.

"I don't really see why I should share any personal details with you," said Shane, almost suspicious. Not quite yet, though. "You're not exactly involved, are you?"

"They entrusted me with some of the information, doctor."

“Entrusted you. A priest.” His voice was low, pensive. “Interesting.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Why is it interesting?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just strange that the Michels would ask for your help.”

 _Right, Ryan. Might as well just drop it_. “Annaliese is possessed. Why wouldn’t they ask for help?”

Ah, there it was. A flicker of annoyance across the other man’s face, his small smile falling flat. “Possessed.”

Ryan shrugged. “Well, yes.”

“By the boogie-man.”

“By a demon,” said Ryan coolly. “And if you wouldn’t mind holding back the sarcasm, that’d be great.”

The doctor got to his feet with all the composure of a king rising from his throne to deal with a particularly irritating peasant. Standing up, he was a big man, and hard. The softness had only been around for when Ryan wasn’t a threat, it seemed.

“Take a seat,” said the doctor, in a stern voice that made it clear he wasn’t expecting resistance.

“I’m okay standing.”

“I’m trying to avoid us getting off on the wrong foot here, pal,” said the other man with a raised eyebrow. “Some cooperation would help that a great deal. It really would.”

“Fine.” Ryan plonked himself down into the nearest seat, which was beside the loaded bookshelves. “Now. I’m sitting.”

“I meant in one of the ones in front of my desk,” said the doctor flatly, leaning on said desk.

“Well you didn’t specify.”

Shane watched him with a steely gaze. “For a man of God, you’re a bit of a dick.” He moved around his desk, taking out a box of cigarettes, pushing one out. He took his time lighting it, sitting halfway on the desk, one arm folded, the other supporting his cigarette. “What happened to love thy neighbour, hm?”

“I have a better one.” Ryan rested his head on his hand, smiling slightly as he spoke. “ _'_ _You must destroy them totally. Show them no mercy, and make no treaty with them'_. You ever heard that one?”

The other man was quiet for a moment, the smoke from his forgotten cigarette curling into the air above him. “And who’s the ‘they’ in that particular message?”

Ryan smiled. “God’s enemies.”

Shane straightened up off the desk, wandering over towards him. “And what would I, a man who believes all religious stuff to be complete baloney, be to God?”

“It’s not who you are. It’s your actions.”

“Mm. Does the big man not like how I’m acting, is it?” He pointed vaguely at him with the cigarette. “Did he whisper it to you in your dreams? Did he come down on a big white cloud and say 'Shane Madej has a firm grasp on reality, he must be struck down’?”

Ryan spared him a wry smile. “Maybe.”

“And what are you going to do about it, hm?” Shane stood over him, one hand in his pocket, the other flicking cigarette ash into the tray beside the seat Ryan was on. “You gonna whip out a Crusader’s helmet, draw your sword, and slice me open? All in the name of sweet, merciful God?”

Ryan looked up at him, a hand resting pensively across his mouth. “You like talking, don’t you? You like the sound of your own voice.”

“I like helping people who need help,” he replied icily, not looking away from Ryan’s eyes. “In an efficient and productive manner. Not sprinkling some water on them and saying 'get well soon’. Maybe leaving a Bible by their bed with the idea that it’ll even make a fucking difference.”

Ryan pushed himself to his feet, not finding their conversation quite so entertaining anymore. “Oh, and what do you do, hm? Plug people with drugs even though their condition is clearly mental and they need to talk? They need to be heard, to be understood? To be helped through a very difficult part of their life with compassion and love?”

“I give them what I know will help them,” replied Shane fiercely, glaring down at him. “What I’ve been educated on. What I specialize in. I don’t quote a book at them and hope it’ll cure their condition.”

“Annalise is possessed,” said Ryan just as heatedly, struggling not to raise his voice. “By a demonic entity. She needs the church’s help. She needs  _my_  help.”

“She needs you to stay the hell away from her, and to not fill her head with your insane beliefs.”

“Oh, so you can fill her body with pills and needles and other crap that’ll change who she is forever?”

“She has a condition,” said Shane firmly.

“What condition?” challenged Ryan.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” he shot back, his voice rough with anger. “It's not that simple. But I have my theories. Epilepsy. Psychosis. Maybe-”

“Don’t bother. Because I  _have_  figured it out.” Ryan stepped around him, storming towards the door. “Really. I thought you were an okay guy, but nope, you’re just the same as all the other pricks.”

“If everyone else is a prick, maybe you’re the issue.”

Ryan yanked the door open, throwing a glare back over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll take advice from a doctor who smokes.”

Shane didn’t turn away until the door slammed shut, stubbing the cigarette out with a bit more force than necessary. He moved back towards his desk, running a hand through his hair as he picked up the phone. "Are Annaliese's results back yet? Yeah, perfect. Send them up to me."

He sat for a while then. Wondering if maybe he'd been a bit too harsh on the other man. They were basically strangers, after all. Maybe he shouldn't have snapped. But then again, Ryan had snapped right back. Held his ground. Something Shane was simultaneously irritated by and impressed with. For now, he wouldn't let it get to him. He wouldn't. Why should he? If the Michels had a brain cell between them, they'd take his advice on Annaliese's condition over the opinion of a priest. He hoped, anyway.


	2. Lakeside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally introduce a cameo that I was going to introduce in the Jamison Family fic but never did  
> it's The Man Himself

The air tasted like smoke, and salt, and roasted meat. The source of such smells were unseen. Shane stood on the slippery stones of the lake shore, hands in his pockets. He wasn’t too sure why he was there. He never went to the lake that much. It was a bit of a drive, really. Down a lonely road through the pines, across the stone bridge, then suddenly there it is. You're on the shore. Shane turned to find that none such road existed right now. It was just him, the lake, and Ryan.

He could see him. Further down, a good bit further, on the small dock that lead to the rickety old boathouse. He didn’t know how he knew it was him, but it was him. Shane watched him, the air cold in his mouth, in his lungs. Ryan seemed hesitant, his steps wary, careful.

The scraping of stones beside him made Shane turn, his eyes widening in alarm at the sight of the inky black arm come from the lake. It broke the surface, stretching forwards, digging into the stones as it dragged itself out.

_“Are you awake?”_

Shane knew he should move, back away, but he didn’t. He watched as another slim, slimy hand clawed at the pebbles, a pair of hunched shoulders rising out of the lake, its hanging head indistinguishable from its torso.

_“I’m here.”_

“Shane!”

He turned back to see the figure of Ryan running down the stones towards him, slipping slightly on the stones, a hand reaching out toward him.

_“Someone will let me.”_

“Shane, go!”

Shane blinked at him, his hands dropping to his sides. “Huh?”

He could see more, more shadows rising out of the waters, so smoothly they barely made ripples. Yet he still didn’t back away. It was just a dream, anyway. What harm could really happen?

Out of the corner of his eye, a flickering darkness. He half-turned, watching curiously as a man on horseback leaked from the shadows, the blackness swirling behind him, up through the gray air like ink through water. He could see the figure galloping around the shore, around the damp grass, hooves thudding against the ground. And for some reason, Shane was terrified. Terrified that it might stop. That the hooves might come to a halt. The thought, the idea filled him with pure dread.

Then a firm hand grabbed hold of him, Ryan throwing him back, his other hand lashing out so suddenly that the small golden cross swung wildly from his fist. The black horse whinnied in alarm, its hooves scattering the stones as he skidded to turn, galloping off into the trees.

_“Damn you! Damn you to hell!”_

Shane shook himself, backing away from the water’s edge, where the liquid figures were still dragging themselves towards him, silent. “Wake up. Time to wake up.”

“Oh God.” Ryan was clearly panicking, spinning in a circle, eyes wide. “Oh God. What the fuck is going on.”

Shane slapped himself lightly across the face. “C'mon, Madej. Rise and shine.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind.” Ryan closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Shut up, man.” Shane gave him a sharp slap in the arm, the shorter man yelping in shock, eyes flying open. “Relax.”

It was as if Ryan was properly seeing him for the first time. His eyes narrowed slightly as he reached out a nervous hand. Shane didn’t back away, didn’t blink as it rested on the side of his face. It was surprisingly warm, surprisingly solid, compared to everything else around him.

“I...” Ryan’s voice was quiet. He swallowed. “Are you real?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. “What?”

An earsplitting shriek, making the two men jump apart, reflexively clamping their hands over their ears, and he was awake. He sat upright instantly, trying to claw back the images he could already feel slipping out of his head. The lake. The lake, and Ryan. And people in the lake? A horse? If he was the type of guy to look up dream symbols and their meanings, he would have. But he was more practical than that. He checked his phone; five in the morning. An apt time for a spontaneous drive to the lake. Kind of.

* * *

The lake was a smooth patch of white in the middle of a black forest, always covered by a light shimmering veil of mist. Shane knew why it was always covered in this fog; warm air meeting cold air, and so on and so forth. It made for a postcard-worthy scene; the water itself, and the pine-covered mountains in the distance. The woods were a place that seemed to beckon with silver fingers of fog; _come, traveler, see what awaits_. But Shane was a busy man, and didn't have time to do such a thing. So he simply began to head down to the water's edge. It was an isolated place. He'd parked on the grass in order to avoid making too much noise. He wasn't sure why. And he soon found out he wasn’t alone.

The black-clothed figure of Ryan was wandering along the stones on the edge of the lake, hugging his coat tight around him. As Shane watched, the priest crouched down beside the glassy water, scarf hanging forwards as he reached out a hand to touch the surface. A very hesitant hand. The ripples were barely evident as his finger gently broke the surface. He waited for a moment before drawing it back, straightening up again. He almost seemed relieved.

“Ryan?”

The priest spun around, slipping slightly on the stones in his haste. “Jesus, I- Hello. Hi.”

Shane smiled dryly as he descended the spongy, mossy grass towards him, pulling on his gloves. “Woah-oh. Did you just take the Lord’s name in vain?”

Ryan pressed his lips together in a sheepish smile. “I won’t tell him if you don’t?”

Shane spared him an amused smile, but not a laugh. He hadn't quite forgotten their confrontation the day beforehand. “Out for a walk, hm?”

“Yeah. Yeah, why not.” Ryan cast his gaze out across the lake, towards the cloud-covered mountains, the green-gray giants. “I’ve never been mad about this place. Creeps me out a bit.”

“Oh, it’s not creepy. It’s beautiful, I think.” He stopped a few feet behind the shorter man, hands in his coat pockets. “In an unconventional way.”

“In a creepy way.”

“An eerie way.” Shane shrugged. “It’s like out here, nowhere else exists.”

Ryan looked back at him, a small frown on his face. “And you like that?”

The taller man shrugged again. “It’s comforting sometimes.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was the fog trailing its thin fingers over the distant waters, light enough to not even make a ripple.

“What has you out here, hm?” asked Shane, hoping he didn’t sound too nosy. Because really, he was just curious.

Ryan looked at the finger that had touched the water, rubbing it against his thumb. “Nothing. Nothing, really. Just needed somewhere to think.”

“Is the church not good enough?”

Ryan threw him a dry look. “It’s okay. Bit too glitzy for my liking.”

The stones scraped off each other as Shane finally joined him, the small waves of the lake pushing through the pebbles barely a foot away. “Isn’t everything about the church too glitzy?”

“Yeah. It is.” He looked up at the taller man, finding Shane was already looking at him. “I don’t like that. About the church. All the materialistic side of it. I think there’s better things to do with all the stuff, really.”

Shane gave a small laugh. “I’m beginning to see why you were sent to a town in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re a bit too forward-thinking.”

Ryan smiled at this, ducking his head aside in an attempt to hide it, but it was still audible in his voice. “Not the first time I’ve been told that.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be told.”

“Depends on who’s telling you it.” Ryan glanced back up at him, seeing the distant look in the taller man’s eyes as he stared off across the lake. “And why are you here, doctor?”

 _Because I can’t stop thinking about my dreams. L_ _ike a crazy person_. “I just needed to get away from the town for a little bit.”

“From Annaliese?”

Shane paused, absent-mindedly raising a hand to scratch at the stubble along his jaw. “No. Maybe. Partially.”

"She was in again last night, wasn't she? Scan results abnormal?" Ryan watched as the taller man ran a gloved hand back through his hair, which bounced back into place as his fingers passed over. “And you’re not even a tiny bit afraid? Unsettled?”

“No. Not really.” Shane distractedly kicked at a pebble, watching it drop into the water a few feet away. The water was so clear he could see where the stone landed underneath. “There’s a logical explanation for everything, Ryan. It’s finding it that’s the hard part.”

“But don’t you find that a bit restricting?”

Shane paused at this, throwing an odd look at the shorter man.

“I mean, as in, isn’t it kind of annoying to always think that there’s a reason behind everything?” Ryan seemed worried that he’d maybe overstepped a boundary, maybe touched on something that Shane did not want to be touched. “To not just be able to say ‘hey, maybe this is just unexplained’ and just accept it?”

“…Yeah. I do.” Shane looked away, quickly. Almost shy. “Uh, yeah, sometimes I think I’d like to be swept up in something. Something beyond the realm of physics. And science. But I can’t.”

Ryan didn't respond for a moment. “You won’t let yourself.”

“No. My mind just doesn’t work like that.” He was quiet, wondering why he even bothered sharing that little tidbit of personal information with the other man. A priest, of all things. “I'm gonna ask you right now to just... just don't become too involved. It's a medical matter."

Ryan looked away. "If the Michels ask for my help, I have to help."

 _So get fucked, basically_. Shane checked his watch, deciding it was both too early to start an argument, and that it would impact on his schedule for the day. "We can talk later. If we have to.”

“Mm. If we have to.” Ryan stayed by the lakeside, watching Shane head back up the small slope with long strides. “I’ll see you later.”

He was alone again. And all of a sudden, he really wished Shane hadn’t left. Ryan steeled himself, taking a deep breath, trying not to let the whisperings of the rustling leaves freak him out too much. He could see it further down the shore, the small, ramshackle boathouse that wasn’t used for anything much anymore. The wood was always soft with damp, the light fog clinging to it like a possessive partner.

The steps that lead up to the humble dock were creaky, unstable. A rotten rope attempted to block any people who might try to enter, but it crumbled with the lightest touch from Ryan’s hand. He took wary steps down towards the boathouse, each step making the planks complain. Its doors lay open, one of them off its rusted hinge, but the doors that lead out to the lake itself were shut. Inside was just black. Inky blackness. The water swelling inside sounded like a voice sighing, breathing, groaning. Ryan glanced back down the lakeside, hoping to see the tall figure of Shane appear through the thin fog. No such luck.

He cleared his throat. "Hello?"

No response from the boathouse. But really, what did he expect? The doors to open and shut like a mouth, for the building to start chatting away to him like an old, senile man? He decided against peering inside, opting for a quick nose around outside. He felt uneasy, yes. Like he was being watched. But he kept going anyway, edging around the side of the building, down the narrow row of planks. A little pile of wood chips caught his attention, and although he was well aware that this was the part in the horror movies were the character would die a horrific death, he went anyway.

Into the wooden wall a single number was hacked. The number seven. He raised an eyebrow, putting out a hand to touch it. Yeah, it was fresh. No mold, nothing to say it had been here for more than a day. But really, it couldn't mean much. Just some kids or something. 

* * *

She was in again that afternoon, with her mother. Shane prescribed her new medication, an anti-convulsant and tegretol, which was pretty strong, but necessary. Her descriptions of demonic faces and grotesque this and that didn't impact on Shane much. He was by now pretty certain that she was neurotic with possible epilepsy. Just let the medication work its magic, and she should be back to herself within a month. 

After they'd left, he sprung up from his desk to stand at the window. Waiting. Yeah, there they were. Going right around the fountain, up the church steps, and through the  towering doors. What was this? What were they doing? Taking his diagnosis and letting it be validated by a damn priest? They were in there for about half an hour, the entire time of which Shane could feel himself getting more and more irritated. He angrily lit a cigarette, irritably took a drag, impatiently exhaled. Their eventual departure was his cue to take action. He shrugged on his coat, heading for the door, leaving the sign up on the inside of the blurred glass. _Back in twenty minutes. Maybe_.

He paced across the quiet street, hands deep in his pockets. A black-clothed figure passed him on the stone steps; Father Alt. He gave Shane a nervous nod, which Shane ignored. He didn't like that guy. He'd had to put him in his place once before, regarding the church and its control over the town. Since then, Alt hadn't been his biggest fan, but he was all slimy smiles to his face. Shane continued on through the doors, into the cool air of the church. It was immense, with slim stained-glass windows that threw colored light that was still somehow dim across the pews. No one seemed to be in. Shocker. The priest he was searching for was standing at the altar, seemingly engrossed in some book he was reading. Probably the fucking Bible or some shit. He looked up at the sharp sound of Shane's impatient footsteps on the tiles.

"Ryan. We need to talk."

Ryan took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling sharply. "If you say so."

"I saw them come in here," said Shane firmly, not wanting to give the guy any opportunity to lie. "What are you telling them?"

"I'm not telling them anything," said Ryan just as sternly, closing over the book. It looked pretty modern. "I'm just listening to their concerns. Which is probably the only actual requirement of my job."

Shane narrowed his eyes at him, a bitterly-amused look. "Sure. And what concerns do they have?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," replied Ryan coolly. "Confessional Seal and all that."

"Oh spare me the pretentious crap, Ryan. This is important."

Ryan moved around the white-clothed altar, folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, they simply watched each other. Shane remained in the center of the main aisle, hands on his hips, like a teacher waiting for a student to admit they cheated on a test. After a silence, Ryan sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, a patronizing act that Shane was not fond of at all.

"Listen, doctor. If anything of real importance comes up, I'll tell you." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "But I'm not going to spill information that a family has confided in me just because you're feeling, what, nosy? Insecure? Threatened, maybe?"

Shane bit back his acidic response, deciding to swallow it, for now. "I'm doing my job. You're derailing it. I'm going to ask you to stop."

"I am also doing my job. And as I said, I'm not suggesting anything to the Michels. I'm just listening."

Ryan moved forwards, and for the first time, Shane actually felt intimidated. The priest came down the red steps, the golden grandness of the altar laid out behind him. It should’ve made him look small, smaller than Shane usually thought he looked. But it didn’t. It did the exact opposite. Shane swallowed.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Ryan paused halfway down the steps, hands on his hips. “You’ve never seen anything like Annaliese before.”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t need to say it,” replied Ryan dismissively. “I can tell.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. “Ah. Can you.”

“You’ve never dealt with a demonic entity.”

“No. And I never will. Because it’s not real.”

Ryan sighed sharply, averting his gaze for a moment. Just to cool down. “If you’ve just come by to argue, you can go.”

“This isn’t your home, Ryan.” Shane remained in the dead center of the aisle, holding the shorter man's glare. “This is a public place. You can’t tell me to leave.”

Ryan took a deep breath as the taller man started moving up towards him, his footsteps ringing out against the tiles. “Unfortunately.”

“Mm.” Shane let his gaze travel around the glitz and glamor of the alter, up the painted walls to the frescoes on the ceiling. “I’ve never liked the church. I’ve never liked organized religion in general. Something unsettling about it.”

“Only when done incorrectly,” added Ryan, still watching him. “But it’s meant to bring people comfort. Be a place of refuge. No matter what specific religion.”

“And yet it seems to fail miserably so many times.”

“Well then tell me something.”

“Oh, anything.”

“Why do so many people come directly from your hospital to here in order to grieve for a lost one?”

Shane looked up at where the other man stood a few steps away. “To grieve. It’s in the sentence.”

Ryan ignored this quip, continuing on. “When you’re done, they come to me. Their religion provides them with comfort, the funeral gives them closure. You don’t give them either of these things. You can’t.”

“It’s not my job, no.”

“You fail sometimes.” Ryan descended a step, two steps, seeing the other man’s eyes narrow, his chin tilt up slightly. “People die because you couldn’t save them. But I’ve never failed to help someone overcome their loss. Never. You do what you do and then you move on. There’s more to life and death than that.”

“Don’t try and get all philosophical on me, Ryan.”

“I’m telling you what I’ve seen in here,” said Ryan sharply. “The state that some people leave your hospital in. You don’t care about them after they walk out those doors.”

“In my line of work, it’s not advised to get emotionally attached to your patients,” said Shane, icy cool, moving up a step. “I have to stay focused. Stay grounded. I can’t be drifting off to Neverland whenever I want, and then just say I was fucking praying or some shit.”

“Without me, you’d be hurting more people than you could even imagine. Without religion to turn to as a source of comfort, some of those people would lose themselves. Why can’t you just  _see_  that?” He kept his eyes locked on Shane’s as the taller man reached the same step he was on. “And that’s what I’m doing with Annaliese. I’m making sure she doesn’t lose herself. I’m making sure she doesn’t get addicted to whatever pills and liquids you’re pumping into her on a nightly basis.”

“You’re not helping her, because she’s not possessed!” said Shane loudly, bordering on a shout.

“She’s believes in God! She believes that there’s something out there! Something greater than us!”

“Then she’s an idiot!”

“That’s not the point!” Ryan jabbed a hard finger into his chest, pushing him back a step. “The point is that if she believes that I can help her through this, then it’ll make a difference. It’s mind over matter, Shane. Oh, you’ve heard of that, yeah?”

Shane disdainfully brushed the hand away, an eyebrow arched. “So you know it’s all bullshit.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Ryan fiercely. “The only thing I know is that I can help her. I can make a difference. She’s a practicing Christian, and so is her family, and they want me to help them. And I will.”

"Well be it on your fucking head, Ryan." 

"Meaning what, exactly?"

Shane waved a hand at the altar, at all the velvet and gold. "You work here, yes. People listen to you spout crap for an hour every now and then. But never, ever think you're above everyone else." He continued on before Ryan could transfer the offended look on his face into words. "You're just a man. That's all. Just like all the others. You can be wrong. You're frequently wrong, actually. And if you cross a line with me, I'll show you the fucking consequences. Am I clear?"

Ryan was silent for a moment, his wide eyes slowly narrowing. "If you think you can come in here and intimidate me like you did all the others, you can think again."

"It's a fact, Ryan. I don't have to think twice about it." He turned away, hearing the irritated 'tut' from the other man as he strode off down the church. "Lovely chat, but I hope I won't have to do this again."

"I won't promise anything."

Ryan waited until the tall figure of Shane had vanished down the steps outside before reopening the book on the altar. His heart was still racing, but he knew he wasn't doing anything wrong. He wasn't. Mrs Michel believed her daughter was possessed, and really, it seemed like she was right. But he didn't know much about possession, hence the reason he'd popped by the library and withdrawn a book or two on the subject. Oh, and one about dreams and their meanings. But that could wait until later.

"What are you reading, my son?"

Ryan glanced over his shoulder at the calming voice, smiling. "Oh, you're back."

Father Thomas returned the smile, in that vague manner he always carried. "I am. Annaliese definitely seems unsettled." He reached out a hand, gently pushing over the book to see the cover. "Ah. You're thinking the same as me, it appears."

"I just thought I should get to know the ins and outs," said Ryan with a small shrug. "Just in case."

"Did you know that I'm a Vatican-approved exorcist?"

Ryan glanced back up at this, eyebrows raised. "What? For real?"

"Yes, for real," replied Father Thomas with an amused smile. "Perhaps I can help you pursue your interests?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." Ryan closed over the book, following him down to the first row of pews. "Like, how can you tell between mental illness and possession? That's the main thing I was trying to find out."

"Well, there's a few things," said the older priest, taking a seat on the smooth wood of the pew. "Such as an aversion to the sacred. Crucifixes, statues, the sort. Sometimes you can only see the whites of their eyes. Another would be knowledge of hidden things, things that the person being possessed would have no way of knowing."

"So it's the demon that's telling you?" asked Ryan, a small frown on his face as he joined him on the seat.

"Precisely." Father Thomas went on, gesturing vaguely with his hands, as if taking the words from the air. "Another is an inordinate physical strength, that the person themselves would never have possessed. And the most common is..." He paused, eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to choose the right words. "...epileptic-like seizures. On their face, in the movement of their limbs, in a way where they lose complete control."

Ryan nodded slowly, taking this in. "But how do you know it's not just epilepsy? Or maybe psychosis?"

"Sometimes they run side-by-side," he explained calmly, knowledgeably. "You have to determine what the root cause of the individual's suffering is. And this would usually start out with a discernment. Which would be me, and a whole team of people."

Ryan raised his eyebrows at this. "Really? I didn't know that. I thought it would just be you."

"Oh, no. Maybe in the sixteenth century," he said with a chuckle. "But no, not now. It would be me, and a medical doctor, perhaps a neurologist, a psychiatrist. All experts. Really, a formal exorcism is a last resort." He emphasized this, giving Ryan a meaningful look. "A very last resort. Until then, the medical experts should be left to do their jobs."

Ryan pressed his lips together, looking away. "Oh. You heard."

"You and doctor Madej? Yes." He gave another low chuckle, adjusting his glasses. "I do have to approve of your standing up to him, I'll admit. Father Alt folded almost instantly. Father Renz the same. But for now, he's in the right."

"I'm not telling the family what to do, though," said Ryan earnestly. "I'm not. They already think Annaliese is possessed. Mrs Michel said she's thought it since the beginning."

"Maybe she's right, maybe she isn't." Father Thomas looked at him over his glasses, like a stern teacher. "If the doctor requires your help, he will. I've been here since before Shane was. He can be a stubborn fool, but he's not stupid. He'll ask if he knows he needs you."

Ryan hesitated before finally nodding, watching the older priest get to his feet. "Okay. Okay, I'll stay out of it."

He waited until Father Thomas had wandered away before opening the second book. _Hidden Dream Meanings_. He quickly looked up 'lake'. 

 

> _Seeing a lake in a dream signifies that there is a stage in your life where unexpected events continue to occur._

Huh. Alright. Vague, but then again, it probably wasn't even important. Probably. 'Boathouse' didn't bring up anything. He hesitated before looking for the next one. 

 

> _To dream of a doctor indicates that you feel you need advice about some aspect of your life. Perhaps you feel the need for a mentor or a guru. This dream may also indicate the presence of a physical ailment which you need to have examined. More likely, though, it indicates a feeling of helplessness about something, physical, emotional or mental._

Ryan swallowed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was prying, before continuing on. 

 

> _A doctor is often an authority figure in dream symbolism, and may, therefore, indicate a need to be taken seriously by the authority figures in your life, or frustration that your needs are not being adequately met._

He closed the book over, sitting in silence for a few minutes. Ryan frequently had dreams. He knew that. But usually daft ones. Not ones that felt so... Not quite real, but not dream-like. Otherworldly, perhaps. Like a parallel universe or something. But as he'd thought already, it probably wasn't important. He got to his feet, deciding to head back to the library to get rid of them. No need in hoarding them if he didn't need them, anyway.


	3. Annaliese

The library was located on the corner, on the same side of the street as the small hospital. It matched the church more in aesthetic value, however. Grey stone, elaborate carvings. They could've been mother and daughter. A small sign swung outside, white with swirling black writing. _Cafe inside!_  That had been Sara's idea; she ran the humble library, all by herself, and decided to encourage people to read more by introducing a space to do so. Seeing as the weather outside was eternally miserable. And she had everything in there; history books, mythology, fantasy, crime, fiction, epics, poetry, in whatever language you wanted. Yeah, she had them all. She just never really knew where they were. 

"Oh, I still have to put all these back," she said, waving a hand vaguely towards the pile of books behind the dark wooden desk. "It'll only take me half an hour or so."

Ryan glanced at the mountain of books that was most definitely at least two hours. "Uh, yeah. That's got to suck."

"What're you returning, hm?" She spun the book, raising an eyebrow as she read the title. "Oh, that's funny. Doctor Madej was in earlier looking for stuff like this." She tapped the thick cover of the one on possession.

Ryan looked up at this, pen hovering mid-air over the sign-in book. "Really?"

"Mmhmm. Seemed a bit moody, if you don't mind me saying." She shrugged, resting a hand on the counter as she stood. "Must be something up. He's usually pretty cool."

Ryan was quiet for a moment, placing the pen down. "I'll just- I'll just bring him this stuff myself then."

"Hm?" She frowned. "You can't. He needs to sign for them. Hello? Hello! Ryan? C'mon, man!"

He was already halfway out the door, books under his arm, and Father Thomas' advice in his head. _Leave the medical experts to do their jobs_. And he would. He would! But maybe Shane just needed a little convincing. A little push.

He caught him leaving the hospital, crossing the few cars parked outside, the flickering of his lighter casting shadows across his face. Shane turned at the sound of Ryan's hurried footsteps with a puzzled frown already on his face, the unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Good morning," said Ryan with a smile, a tiny bit breathless.

Shane raised an eyebrow. "I hope so."

"Sara said you were looking for books on a certain subject." He passed the two heavy books over, seeing the frown flash across the taller man's face as they landed in his hands. "I had them. So I thought I'd help out."

Shane turned the books so he could read the titles, holding them in one hand, taking his cigarette from his mouth with the other. "Oh. Wow. You shouldn't have."

"Mind if I ask why you wanted them?"

Shane threw him a dry look. "A little. But I guess I should just shoot down any wild notions you might have right now."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this. "I don't have any wild notions. I'm just curious."

"I thought curiosity was my thing." Shane's voice was unenthusiastic, but he didn't hand the books back. "Let's just have a chat, yeah?"

"A chat?"

"Yeah. Me and you. Talking." He nodded across the street, at the warm light in the coffee shop window. "I was gonna grab a coffee, then head up to the Michels. They want me to see what's going on with Annaliese." He paused. "I don't know why I bothered telling you that. Erase it from your memory, please and thank you."

"Has she gotten worse?" asked Ryan, following him over the cobblestones.

"Shh. No questions." He raised the books so that Ryan could see them. "Especially if you're still stuck on this bullshit."

"Well it looks like I'm not the only one stuck on it."

Shane paused with the door to the coffee shop held open, the bell letting out a bright tinkle, not quite matching the look on his face. "I'm not taking it seriously. I was just interested."

"Sure," replied Ryan lightly, passing him by into the shop. "Of course. Just curious, as always."

"Mm."

The coffee shop was warm, and dry, and friendly. Being in it felt like being in a normal town, a nice part of some big city. It was the only place in the town that felt truly welcoming. It was run by two guys who seemed to quite literally live there, and had all sorts of coffees and teas and pastries, and whatever other stuff they deemed worth buying. Most of the time it was more of a help-yourself type place, with the two owners spending the majority of their time testing new products, deciding whether they'd be worth it or not.

"Hey, Shane!" Steven popped up from behind the counter, a smile at the ready. "Oh, and Ryan! What're you guys having?"

"Whatever you think we'd like," replied Shane with a smile, unwinding his scarf, letting it hang loose.

"Oh, I love doing that." He turned around, starting to throw together some concoction or other. "What's up with you guys, hm? You in here together, or just a coincidence?"

Before either of them could respond, a monotonous voice came from the kitchen, ending the conversation as quickly as it started.

"Steven!" Andrew appeared in the doorway, with what appeared to be a bag of flour thrown across his apron. "I require aid."

"Dude, I said to leave the baking to Adam."

"He's off. I wanted donuts."

"You're trying to make _donuts?_ " Steven sighed exasperatedly, landing the two coffees on the counter before hurrying off. "You do not have the expertise, Andrew. You just don't. You- Oh my God, you've trashed the place."

"It's just flour, bro."

"It's _cornstarch_ , you idiot."

Shane turned his back on the building domestic, nodding towards the door. "Shall we?"

Ryan picked up his own coffee, feeling the heat of it even through his gloves. "Yeah. I think we shall."

* * *

The road was symmetrical. A row of trees stood guard opposite a matching row of trees, their branches reaching towards the heavens. Or simply towards the sky, depending on how one viewed it. A few dried leaves rustled along the ground, and a few crunched as the two men took what appeared to be a leisurely stroll down the street. It was indeed a stroll, but it was not quite leisurely. It was actually a tiny bit tense. Not quite unbearable, but enough to make sure neither were quite comfortable with the discussion. Two enemy soldiers tip-toeing through a minefield in an attempt to negotiate some sort of ceasefire.

"And you carry all the views of the church, do you?" Shane didn't look at the shorter man, but he could feel himself being watched. And Ryan didn't seem to care that his staring was so obvious. "I'd really love to know some of your stances on certain, uh, issues."

"Well then ask," shrugged Ryan, looking away as Shane turned his head to return the stare. "I think you might be pleasantly surprised."

"Oh, you think?"

"Mm. I do."

"Then let's make this fun, yeah?" Shane used his coffee cup to gesture as he talked, his breath fogging the air in front of him. "I'll put forward a topic. You give me your view. If I like all of them, you can come into the Michel's house to see Annaliese. If you're _really_ that interested."

Ryan nodded eagerly, his own coffee cup held in his gloved hands. "Yeah. I'm really that interested."

"Right. Let's start easy." Shane thought for a moment, his gaze distant. "Separation of church and state."

Ryan answered almost instantly. "Well, yeah, I'm for it. It's a necessity if a society is going to call itself modern. People have different beliefs, so there shouldn't be one set that rules over everyone." He spared a quick glance up at the taller man. "You like that?"

"Yeah. I like it."

"You don't look too satisfied." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you have some more interesting topics on your mind."

"You guess correctly." They turned the corner onto the road that lead out towards the small gathering of houses, the stout buildings lurking in the fog, the smell of fumes being replaced with burning coal and wood as they left main street behind. "Such as this oath of celibacy. Did you take such an oath?"

Ryan was quiet for a moment. "It was a requirement. So yeah."

"And what do you think of it?" asked Shane with a raised eyebrow, watching the shorter man's face. "Have you kept it?"

"I think it's unrealistic." Ryan shrugged. "The church enforces it because of money. I'm not an idiot. They don't want to be caught up in paying for weddings and divorces and child benefit crap."

Shane nodded slowly. "You didn't answer both questions."

Ryan came to a slow stop, the taller man copying him. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"That's an answer in itself, isn't it?"

"And why should it matter to you?" Ryan scowled up at the smug smile on the other man's face. "Why would you care?"

"Oh, I don't. I just want to know how modern of a priest you are."

"I think the church has to modernize itself if it's going to stay alive."

"And you're taking the brave first step, are you?" Shane smiled wryly. "One small step for Ryan Bergara, one giant step for the Catholic Church."

Ryan looked him up and down with clear disapproval, taking a sip of his coffee. "And you really think all priests keep their oaths? If you say yes, you're an idiot."

"And what about women priests? You think they should be allowed?"

"Duh."

"And homosexuality." Shane was searching his eyes so closely it made Ryan swallow, so deeply it had his mouth feeling oddly dry. "What do you think of that."

Ryan held his gaze, his coffee forgotten in his hand. Shane hadn't touched his in the past few minutes either. "I don't think it's a sin. I think people are who they are, and if they're not harming anyone else, then to leave them being who they are."

Shane watched him for a long moment, a vague smile on his face. "You're very frustrating, Ryan."

"Frustrating?"

"You're likable. You are. But I just can't like you."

Ryan continued walking, seeing the taller man joining him instantly. "I think you just _won't_ like me."

"A bit of both, perhaps." 

"Well I can say the same to you, Shane." It felt odd, saying his name. Not unpleasant, but different. More personal. "You're a good guy. I can see that. But you're wrong in this situation."

A sharp exhale. "There we go."

"And you won't accept it."

"I can't accept it. Because it's not true." He sighed heavily. "Look, Ryan. I don't have a problem with religion. I don't. But when you're inflicting your beliefs on someone else, I-"

"Mrs Michel asked for my help," interrupted Ryan, throwing a sharp look up at him. "I'm not inflicting anything on anyone. She asked for my help, and I didn't see any reason to refuse. And I still don't."

"There are literally so many reasons for you not to get involved," said Shane in exasperation, throwing his eyes towards the sky. "I could write an entire book on it. I could write multiple books on it. Build a cult on it. Overthrow the church. Take over the world's governments. _That's_ how many reasons there are for you to just back off, Ryan."

Ryan didn't reply for a minute, glowering straight ahead, at the wilderness beginning to thicken either side of the lonely road. "Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of an ass?"

"Uh, no, actually."

"Well you're a bit of an ass."

"Ouch. My feelings." They passed the first house, a small structure, with a wooden porch outside. "You know, you were so close, Ryan. I was actually going to let you come and see Annaliese. But I've done a complete one-eighty, I'm afraid."

Ryan continued walking with him, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well I think Mrs Michel will be very happy to see me."

"Ryan, don't." Shane came to a halt, fixing him with a stern look. "Don't start annoying me. I've been nice to you so far-"

"Oh, have you? I didn't notice."

"-but I'm beginning to get impatient." Shane narrowed his eyes at him. "You don't know their address. And I'll tell you now that I am willing to wait here for a very long time."

"Me too," shrugged Ryan, looking up at him from under the edge of his woolly hat. "I can wait."

"I can be a very stubborn man, Ryan. I know this for a fact." He lowered his voice, taking an almost threatening step forwards. "I once won a radio competition simply because I refused to get off the line."

Ryan looked at him in baffled amazement. "How the hell are you a doctor? Seriously."

"Says the priest who's sinned in who knows how many ways." He used his coffee cup to point at him. "What's next, huh? You murdered a guy? But it's all okay, because you believe in the separation of church and state."

"Fuck you, dude."

"You're a hypocrite, Ryan." 

"Shut up," said Ryan sharply, realizing his coffee cup was folding slightly due to his grip tightening on it. "I'm not a hypocrite."

"You're going around judging other people for their actions, but-"

"I don't judge people for anything, you dick." Ryan took his own step forwards, not taking his eyes from the taller man's, seeing Shane raise his eyebrows at this defiance. "And if I did, I'd definitely start with you."

"Oh, and what have I done, huh?" Shane lazily spread his arms, a challenge. "What horrendous acts have I committed, hm? Is it the time I didn't stone a woman to death for having pre-marital sex? Or maybe it was the multiple times I boned a guy. Or maybe it was when I _dared_ to stand up to a priest and call him out on his shit."

"You're just _so_ controversial, aren't you?" said Ryan dryly.

"No, I just don't live in fucking medieval times." 

"You're trying to piss me off. And it's not going to work."

"It literally is working. Right now." Shane raised an eyebrow, speaking around his sip of coffee. "Look at you." 

"You're more pissed off than I am," said Ryan, seeing the irritation become more evident on the taller man's face as he realized this was indeed true. "You've pissed yourself off. Congratulations. Idiot."

"You're not coming to the Michel's with me," said Shane cuttingly, his face icy. "So fuck off."

"I'll wait, Shane," he replied heatedly. "I mean it. I will wait here all night."

"Well so will I."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"Doctor Madej?" Mrs Michel's voice was frail, tired. They could see her standing on her porch a few doors down, the dim golden light spilling out behind her. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Shane called back, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's. "Just me."

Ryan went on ahead, throwing a contemptuous look back over his shoulder as he did so. "Mrs Michel?"

"Oh, Ryan!" She smiled weakly at him, pushing a few loose strands of dark hair back off her face as he came up the porch steps. "What a lovely surprise. Come on in."

Shane threw a dark look at the back of Ryan's head as he arrived onto the porch himself, not quite needing all three steps to get up. "Hello, Mrs Michel. Sorry for the hitchhiker."

"No, no, it's fine." She ushered them into the dimly-lit hall, littered with statues of saints and crucifixes of wood and gold and marble. "Please, come in. She's upstairs."

Shane glowered at Ryan as they shrugged their coats off, unwrapping their scarves, yanking off their gloves, all with a bit more intensity than was normal. Mrs Michel frowned from one to the other, but decided to let it slip. She had enough stress in her life at the moment. They followed her up the creaky stairs, the carpet worn away in the center from years of hurried footsteps. Mrs Michel knocked lightly on the first door, listening for any response.

"Annaliese? My love?"

Nothing. She threw them a sad look before pushing open the door. The room was almost entirely dark, lit by a single candle by the bedside.

"She doesn't like the light recently," she whispered, gesturing towards the bundle under the covers. "Hurts her eyes, she says."

Shane nodded, moving forwards. "Aversion to light is a symptom of epilepsy, Mrs Michel. It's nothing to worry about."

Ryan watched from the doorway as Shane circled the bed, his tall figure only half-illuminated by the flickering candle. He knelt down beside the covers, clearing his throat.

"Annaliese?" His voice was surprisingly soft, compared to the rough edge that had been present during his and Ryan's 'chat'. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't reply for a long moment, and when she did, her voice was feeble. "Bad. I feel bad."

He nodded, as if she could even see from under the covers. "Can you describe it to me?"

Another silence. "No."

He frowned at this. "Why not?"

"Go away." Her voice suddenly sounded hateful, the covers moving slightly. "Leave me alone."

"Doctor." Mrs Michel moved towards the bed, shaking her head at him. "She can be quite irascible recently. Very temperamental. Just to warn you. She ruined the painting on the wall only this morning because she 'hated it'."

Ryan finally entered the room fully, moving up to the painting in question. "It was of Jesus?"

"Yes," she replied. "Not that that's quite obvious anymore."

Ryan raised a hand, gently touching the shredded parchment that hung from the wooden frame. "Has she done this to anything else?"

"No. Not yet. But she keeps asking me to take the statue of Our Lady out of the room."

Shane ignored this, wondering if it was safe to do what he was about to do. "Annaliese, can I see you?"

He could hear the sheets moving as she shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not allowed," she said quietly. 

"Just very quickly. Only two seconds." He kept his voice soft, gentle. "You're allowed. I promise."

Mrs Michel watched as Annaliese slowly poked her head out of the covers. A smile spread across the mother's face, her hands rising to her mouth. She didn't dare say anything quite yet, however. Just in case she frightened her daughter back under the covers.

Shane lightly placed the back of his hand against Annaliese's pale forehead, a light frown appearing across his face. "Are you cold?"

She gave a small shake of her head. "No. I'm too warm."

He nodded slowly, reaching into his back pocket for the small torch. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes. Just to see how your sight is."

"No!" She said the word savagely, a hateful glare on her face. "No, don't touch me!"

The sharp slap hit him right across the face, knocking him off balance against the small chest of drawers, the candle wavering dangerously. Annaliese vanished back under the covers, oblivious to her mother's cry of apology as Shane fumbled to stand the candle back up, wincing as the hot wax spilled across his hand. Ryan moved forwards, quickly helping the taller man back to his feet, throwing a concerned glance at the bed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Mrs Michel had her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes watering. "She never used to be like this. I swear. Never. She never would have hit anyone. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine." Shane distractedly rubbed his stinging cheek, watching the bed warily. "I've been hit harder."

"What a surprise," muttered Ryan, meeting the quick glare Shane threw his way.

"We should talk outside," said Shane quietly, leading the way out into the hall. He fixed Ryan with a cool stare as the shorter man shut the door behind them. "Just me and Mrs Michel."

"Oh, I don't mind if Ryan wants to join," she said, both her face and voice devoid of any particular emotion. "I don't mind."

"Great!" Ryan joined them with a bright smile, hands in his pockets. "Look at that, Shane. She doesn't mind."

Shane threw him a 'fuck you' in a facial expression, folding his arms across his chest. "Alright. Well, Annaliese is definitely suffering some sort of epilepsy, but the violence might be hinting at something else. Is that a regular thing now?"

"She... She was getting a bit restless," said Mrs Michel, still in an empty voice. "I don't know. She hasn't hit anyone yet."

"Well if she keeps it up, let me know." Shane began heading towards the stairs, hearing one set of footsteps follow. "If you come around to my office tomorrow, I'll give you stronger medication. The violence could be down to some sort of seizure-like activity, but I'll need to observe it a bit more."

"Thank you. Doctor."

Ryan waited until they were out on the porch, re-wrapping themselves up against the chill. It was getting dark now, rapidly, the lights on in the majority of the houses on the short street. He followed the taller man down the steps, gloved hands deep in his jacket pockets.

"Stronger medication, hm?"

"For God's sake, Ryan." He turned sharply, glaring at the shorter man, the expression just about visible in the low light. "You just don't shut up, do you?"

"Uh, I shut up for almost the entire time in there," replied Ryan defensively, scowling back at him. "Because I'm doing what you asked me to do. And letting you do your job. Even thought there's definitely something else up."

Shane shook his head wearily, continuing on. "Don't say it, Ryan. Just don't."

"Tearing up the picture of Jesus? Wanting the statue of Mary out of the room?" Ryan stuck right beside him, hurrying slightly to keep up with his long strides. "That picture was literally clawed from the frame, dude."

"Ryan. My patience is wearing _very_ thin right now."

"And what's with her saying she wasn't allowed to get out from under the covers?" 

"Shut up, man!" Shane rounded on him again, gloved hands clenched by his sides. "God, you're driving me fucking loopy! Stop following me!"

"Uh, I have to walk this way too."

"Oh, it's my lucky day." Shane sighed heavily, forcefully. "I used to think you were an okay guy, did you know that? But now? I would literally pay you to leave me alone."

"And I would accept that payment." 

"Oh, so you're corrupt now as well?" He paused, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Wait. Do priests get paid?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, walking ahead. "Yes. We get paid."

"How much?"

A dry laugh. "Not as much as doctors, anyway."

"Well, one of us does actual, _real_ work. So maybe that's why that is." 

Ryan ignored this, choosing instead to just glower ahead at the gathering darkness. A lone car whirred by. He spared a look at the taller man, meeting Shane's gaze for a fleeting second before they both looked away again.

"What medication are you going to put her on?" asked Ryan, shrugging his scarf more firmly around his neck and chin. It was rapidly growing chilly. 

"It doesn't concern you, _father_." Shane rolled his eyes as he said the word. "Father. Really. Where did that even come from?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it either. So don't call me it."

"Gladly." 

Another minute's silence, but for their footsteps on the path, crunching through the fallen leaves.

"I'm gonna make it my business," said Ryan quietly, seeing the other man turn his head to look at him. "There's something more than epilepsy here."

Shane exhaled sharply, a harsh sigh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. I'm just a doctor. What do I know?"

An unamused silence. "Not as much as you like to think you do."


	4. Oaths

She was running. She was running, and she was wearing a white dress. It was flowing behind her like smoke, her bare feet splashing in the water. Ryan watched as she bounded past, smiling and laughing and looking like a normal girl should. She went deeper into the water, up to her knees, the bottom of the white dress floating on the smooth surface.

"Annaliese?" He looked down at her from where he stood beside the boathouse, a frown on his face. "What are you doing?"

She didn't respond but to giggle, throwing herself forwards into the water below, the inky blackness surrounding her. She swam out further, and further, seemingly uninterested in how far she was going. He went to the end of the dock, watching her white-clothed figure floating on the surface of the lake. 

"Annaliese!" he called, hands cupped around his mouth. "You're going too far! Come back!"

_"Are you awake?"_

He jumped at the swelling voice from the boathouse, looking up at the sky as the clouds began to grow thicker, darker, the water beginning to grow choppy. 

_"I'm here."_

"Who's here?" asked Ryan, swallowing, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. "Who are you?"

A distant shouting made him turn, seeing someone further down the shoreline beginning to wade out into the water. A tall someone. Huh. Shane again. He seemed fixated on Annaliese, who he noticed was now splashing wildly, her hands waving in the sky as the waves grew fiercer. He could hear Shane's voice, distant, calling her name. From the trees, a black horse, with a rider that somehow didn't look normal. Didn't look _right_. He was galloping full-tilt towards the lakeside, the hooves hammering the earth below him. And once again, Ryan was overwhelmed with fear at the thought of the rider stopping. At the thought of those hooves coming to a halt.

He almost fell off the dock in his attempt to get down to the lakeside, the stones sliding under his feet as he ran, as he searched his pocket for the little gold crucifix. "Shane! Look out!"

"Annaliese!" The water was up to Shane's waist now, but the closer he got to her, the further she was being carried away. "Annaliese, you have to-" He stopped calling for her at the sound of violent splashing, turning his head to see the horse and the rider galloping towards him. "What the fuck?"

"Shane!"

He turned again, the water sliding around his waist, pulling him a bit off balance. "Ryan?"

The horse was slowing as it got closer, and it filled him with dread. Pure dread. At the thought of it stopping. At the thought of it being still. He began trying to get back inland, moving towards Ryan, his hands clawing the water as if he could use it to pull himself forwards. 

"Ryan!" He was slipping on the stones below, stumbling, the water splashing into his face. "Ryan, help me!"

"I can't- Oh my God." Ryan's eyes grew wide as the horseman got closer, at a leisurely canter. "Oh my _God_."

It looked like a man. It was covered in cloaks and rags and torn fabric of mainly dull green and black, hanging from its arms and legs and shoulders, whipping about in the wind like the water below. And that was it. That was all of it. The space between its shoulders was entirely blank. Ryan almost dropped the gold cross into the water, fumbling to catch it, the metal glinting. At the sight of it, the horseman yanked the reigns of the horse, pulling it hard away, back to shore. Leaving the two men standing in the icy water. Ryan stuck out a hand, Shane immediately grabbing hold of it, firmly. It was like trying to pull him out of a pool of glue. The water simply didn't seem to want to let him go. But it did, and he was out, and Annaliese was nowhere to be seen. The water grew calm, unnaturally calm. It was absolutely silent. 

"I need to stop watching horror films," muttered Shane to himself, trudging out of the water, running a damp hand back through his hair. "This shit is just weird now."

Ryan followed him out, eyes involuntarily traveling down the other man's body, where the wet shirt stuck to him, outlining the light muscle with each heavy breath. "Yeah."

"And why you, huh?" Shane narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him, hands on his hips. "Why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"In my dream. You don't have any business being in my subconscious."

Ryan shook his head dismissively, shaking a finger with it. "Uh, no. _You're_ in _my_ dream, pal."

"Oh yeah?" Shane suddenly slapped him, a stinging one, forcing an outraged curse from the shorter man. The sound of the impact basically echoed. "Well look at that, you didn't wake up. So it's not your dream."

"Fuck you!" Ryan went to hit him back, freezing at the skull-shattering shriek that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Ow! Fuck, I-"

Ryan opened his eyes, his gaze instantly landing on the alarm clock by his bed. 3:33am. He rolled onto his back, letting out a frustrated groan, hands covering his face. How the hell was he supposed to go back to sleep after that nightmare? The answer was he couldn't.

He let out a tired sigh, staring at the ceiling. "Screw it."

* * *

Shane was just crossing the small car lot when he saw him coming out of the church across the street. For some reason, he stopped, wondering if Ryan had seen him. He had. It was only the two of them out, anyway, seeing how early it was. Ryan seemed a bit wary as he crossed the street to him, rubbing the side of his face as if someone had just slapped him. The steam floated up from his paper cup of coffee.

"Good morning," said Shane, a curious edge to the greeting. A question in disguise.

"Morning." Ryan took a sip of coffee, watching him closely. "Early shift?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Shane was still staring at him; it was as if they'd already been talking, as if they'd already seen each other. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep." He shrugged. "Stress dreams, y'know."

"And what could you possibly be stressed about?" asked Shane with a half-smile. "Lost your holy water?"

"Priests are still people, Shane."

Shane gave a dry laugh at this. "Almost."

Ryan rolled his eyes, letting them land back on the taller man. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Most things. Yeah."

"Do you ever think before you say them?" asked Ryan with a slight smile. "Because it doesn't seem like it."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I don't have to. I'm just always right."

"Ah. Are you."

"Well, no. I don't think I'm right about _everything_." He gestured vaguely with one hand as he talked, the other in his coat pocket. "I just feel like I... am often right. About a lot of things."

“I think that you like to know things,” said Ryan slowly, observing the taller man's face. “But you don’t understand a lot of it.”

Shane slipped his hand back into his pocket, turning to face him more directly. “I don’t see a difference in the two.”

“It’s like the difference between being smart and being wise,” shrugged Ryan, watching his face for any hint that this could go downhill. “You know a lot of stuff. You like to let people know you know a lot of stuff. But sometimes the best way to seem smart is to know when to shut the fuck up.”

Shane raised his eyebrows at this, the smallest of smiles appearing on his face. “Well. Look at you. Coming out of your shell a little, hm?”

“Only when I’m forced to.”

“And that’s how you feel, is it?” Shane continued walking, seeing the shorter man join him. Not welcome, but not quite unwelcome either. “You feel like someone’s pushing you out of your comfort zone?”

“I feel like someone is trying to intimidate me,” replied Ryan, keeping his voice light. “And I think that someone is going to find the task a bit harder than he might have presumed.”

Shane gave him a sidelong look. “I don’t presume. I make educated guesses.”

“My previous statement still stands.”

“I’m not trying to intimidate you,” said Shane coolly, coming to a halt in front of the doors to the hospital, turning to face the smaller man. “Maybe you’re just beginning to doubt yourself.”

“No. No, I never doubt myself.”

“Well that says a lot.” 

He looked down at the shorter man. Ryan looked back, taking a sip of his coffee. Shane didn’t know why he wanted to invite the guy up to his office, because really, they didn’t exactly get along. Well, they probably could. And they probably would, if it wasn’t for their conflicting views. But at the end of the day, he made for good conversation, and he had a few hours to kill before his actual shift started.

Shane pushed open the glass door, nodding into the hall. “Go on.”

Ryan hesitated for a moment. Just a quick moment. Then he went in, despite his mind telling him that perhaps he shouldn’t. But why not?

“Do you know Father Thomas?” asked Ryan, following Shane up the stairs, watching him shrugging his coat off, folding it over his arm.

“Oh, you mean the one priest in this town that isn’t insane?” Shane threw a mildly amused look back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I know him.”

“We’re not all insane.” Ryan voice wasn’t exactly irritated, but wasn’t relaxed, either. “Or stupid. As you seem to think.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ryan.” He pushed open the door to his office, flicking on the dim lights, chucking his coat onto the nearest chair. “I just think you’re easily excitable. And that’s fine.”

Ryan smiled dryly, staying by the door, one hand holding his coffee, the other in his pocket. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

“I- I think maybe you’re a smart person,” said Shane with a small shrug, gesturing vaguely at him. “Just with some… very unique views. That don’t always add up. And that’s fine!”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Thank you. I can just feel the sincerity of your words.”

“I’m being sincere!” insisted Shane with a light laugh, sitting behind his desk, leaning back in the seat. “I _am_. I promise.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this. “You promise. That means so much to me.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, watching him thoughtfully, head resting in his hand. Ryan wasn’t exactly sure what to do. How does a person stand normally again? He wanted to take off his coat, but that would mean he’d have to put his coffee down, and the nearest flat surface was Shane’s desk, where Shane was still looking at him. Carefully. Sharply. Ryan swallowed, disguising this by taking a sip of coffee.

“Does the parish here respect you?”

Ryan blinked at this, looking understandably confused for a second. “Uh, well, I don’t know. I highly doubt it.” He shrugged. "I mean, do you think the parish respects a Latino priest with my 'crazy' views?"

A pause. “They’d be stupid not to.” Shane distractedly rubbed a hand across his mouth as he spoke, feeling the stubble scratching his fingers. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Ryan Bergara. I’ll give you that.”

Ryan turned aside at this, going to the bookshelves, but Shane could still see it. The badly-disguised smile, lips pressed together in a relatively straight line, but he could still see the smile in his cheeks. Shane looked back down at the work he was meant to be doing, letting his hand hover over the pen nearby, not quite picking it up. He glanced back at the other man, seeing Ryan pull down a small enough book, a sudden frown on his face.

"Well it looks like I wasn't the only one who had to take an oath, hm?"

Shane rolled his eyes, immediately feeling his mood drop. Ryan flicked through the pages for a minute or so, his mouth moving with the words as he read.

"The Hippocratic Oath remains a right of passage for medical graduates in many countries," said Ryan out loud, moving towards the desk as he spoke. "It-"

"I know what it is, Ryan." He picked up his pen, scooching his chair into his desk with the air of a great scholar being interrupted by a pesky student. "I took it. All doctors have to take it."

"Then maybe you'll remember some of these." His finger followed the words as he read them out, his gaze flickering to Shane's face every few seconds to watch his reaction. " _I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug_. Or what about this one: _I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery_. Oh, this one is great: _I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick_."

Shane gave him a flat look. "Yeah. I remember them."

"Well I'm not seeing much 'warmth, sympathy, and understanding' in your treatment of Annaliese," said Ryan, raising his eyebrows. 

"Oh, are you not?" Shane's eyes were already moving back to the document he was skimming. "So sorry. I'll definitely try harder. Just for you."

Ryan looked at him in silence for a long minute. Maybe he shouldn't push him right now. They'd actually been getting along for once. But Annaliese was the priority, really. Or at least making Shane see that there was something definitely off about her, and not just in medical terms. And so what if they got into another argument? Why should Ryan care? It wasn't like they were going to become best friends or some shit. He promptly snapped the book closed, seeing Shane close his eyes at the sound.

"What happens if you break any of the things in the oath?"

Shane slumped forwards, head hanging, letting the other man know exactly how annoying he was being. "I just- I've changed my mind about you being here. Go away."

"Mm. Yeah, I will." He sounded relatively sincere, eyebrows raised. "Just... After you tell me what happens if you break the oath."

"The Great God of Medicine descends from the clouds on an IV drip and personally beats us with a shoe." Shane smiled at the flat look on Ryan's face, resting his chin on his hand. "Nothing happens. Not unless the actual law is broken. Sorry if that ruins any schemes you have."

"I don't have any schemes," replied Ryan dryly, watching as the other man got to his feet. "I was just wondering."

"Just wondering, hm?" Shane wandered around the desk to face him, hands on his hips. "Look, let's just cut the bullshit. You weren't just wondering. You're trying to say something here. So c'mon. Spit it out."

Ryan was quiet, folding his arms, hugging the book against himself. "I want to help."

"You _can't_ help," replied Shane wearily. "Even if I wanted you to help - which I don't - you _couldn't_. You're a priest. A clearly bored priest, at that."

"A concerned priest," corrected Ryan. "Look, you saw the house. They're clearly very religious. So-"

"Yeah, which is exactly why you need to stay away from them," said Shane firmly. "How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"You left Mrs Michel standing outside her _very sick_ daughter's door." Ryan didn't look away from the taller man, even as Shane took an almost threatening step forwards. "She was really upset, Shane. And you just left her there." He tapped the book he was holding, not that Shane's gaze even moved to it. "One of the lines from the oath _you took_ is that it's your responsibility to make sure the family are treated well and looked out for. Otherwise you're not caring adequately for the sick. It says it, Shane." 

The taller man still didn't respond, his face unnervingly blank, eyes steely. 

"It's your responsibility," continued Ryan, holding the sharp glare being fixed on him. "So be responsible."

Shane's voice was quiet, dangerously so. "You have some nerve turning around and saying this shit to me."

"But I'm right," said Ryan fiercely, refusing to back down. Not now. Not ever. "I'll leave you to do your job when you start doing it right."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" 

Ryan swallowed at the rough anger in the other man's voice, taking a deep breath. "I-"

"You think you can read five lines of a _very_ outdated medical book and then try and tell me how to do my own fucking job?" Shane began slowly moving forwards, the shorter man walking backwards as he did so, their eyes still locked. "You think you have the right to tell me what to do? The authority? You think you can order me around, act like you're so fucking superior?" He gave a derisive scoff, coming to a halt as Ryan bumped back against the wall. "Listen, pal. I said it to you the other day, but maybe it didn't get through your thick skull; you can pray all you want, but you are just a man. Just a normal guy. And none of this shit-" He gave the white collar at the bottom of Ryan's neck a sharp tug, seeing the flush appear across the shorter man's face at the touch. "-changes that. Do I make myself clear?"

 _Fuck_. Ryan blinked, closing his mouth, swallowing again. "The only thing you've made clear is that you don't like people calling you out when you're wrong."

"Oh, no, I _love_ people calling me out when I'm wrong." He looked him up and down, a disdainful eyebrow arched. "But only when the person doing the calling out has the right to do so. Now get out."

Ryan let himself breathe properly once the taller man had turned away, watching him move back to his desk. "And how do you decide who has that right, hm?"

Shane leaned on the desk, hands pressed down on the surface, his impatience palpable. "I said get out. Now."

Ryan followed over to the desk, chucking the book in his hand across it to land heavily in front of the taller man. "Maybe give that a read. Refresh your memory." He narrowed his eyes at him as he turned away, speaking over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "And just to remind you, you're also just a man. You can't stop me from getting involved if I want to." He stopped at the door, resting his hand on the handle as he half-turned to look at him. Shane was still glaring at him, leaning on the desk, the cool light from the windows very soft compared to the scene it was spilling across. "And don't ever talk to me like that again. Ever."

"Or what?" challenged Shane, straightening up off the desk. "You'll strike me down? Oh, Ryan, I'm shaking in my boots. I really am."

"Fuck you."

Shane raised an amused eyebrow at this, staying standing even after the door was slammed shut. "Alright." He sat back in his chair, nonchalantly lighting a cigarette, his gaze distant as he took a drag. "Alright. _Damn_."

* * *

Ryan chucked his now-cold coffee into the bin as he stormed across the street, the chill really beginning to settle in, the dark still lingering. His heart was still racing from the confrontation, from the harsh edge in Shane's voice that had cut right through him, that had made it suddenly hard to breathe. He paused by the fountain, staring into it, hugging his coat firmer around himself. The still water reflected the starry sky above. It was beautiful, really. Ryan leaned down, tracing a finger lightly along the surface. The little lights wavered as the water rippled. He watched it for a few minutes, straightening up. The street was empty, the few lampposts casting limited light across the cobblestones. He half-turned to look back up at the window of Shane's office, a few floors up, its dim light the only one on in the top half of the building. He could see him, his tall frame, pacing back and forth, the glow of his cigarette visible even from where Ryan was. Ryan turned away with a mutter, going to move around the fountain, but stopping when he saw it. 

It stood at the end of the street, the steam coming off its black coat almost illuminated by the lamppost it was standing under. Ryan blinked in surprise, wondering if it was normal for a horse to be out and about at half eleven at night. He glanced around the street; no one. No one but him and the horse, and Shane's silhouette above them. Ryan began walking towards the horse, eyes narrowed, still wondering if maybe he was just seeing things. But no, he could hear its hooves hitting the stone as it turned around, tail whipping before heading back across the main road at the end of the street. It quickly melded with the shadows. Ryan stood, mouth hanging open slightly, one eye narrowed in perplexion.

"What the fuck." He gave the street another quick search, a frown on his face. "Okay."


	5. Wants And Needs

They sat at the coffee table nearest the window, but Sara could still see the check-in desk from her seat. It wasn't as if the library was bustling, anyway. It wasn't as if anywhere in the town ever bustled. It was always quiet. A cool, calm quiet. Shane and Sara were not, personally, being quiet, however. They were in the midst of discussing the talk of the town; Annaliese Michel.

"Everyone keeps saying she's possessed," said Sara, watching the irritated eye roll on Shane's face. "Yeah, I think it's dumb too."

"It is dumb! That shit isn't real!"

"What _does_ she have, then?" 

He paused, looking into his mug, the steam rising from the hot coffee. "I don't know. Some sort of epilepsy. I've just never seen it before."

"Ryan seems pretty certain it's not just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what he thinks," said Shane dismissively, waving a hand. "God, he's a pain."

Sara took a sip of tea, nodding slowly. “You’re, uh, you’re spending a lot of time with him.”

Shane threw her a dry look. “Yeah. Involuntarily.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You sure?”

“I know what you’re trying to get at here,” he said after a pause. “And the answer is no. I don’t have some stupid crush on him.”

“So you don’t want to fuck him.”

“He’s a priest, Sara! I can’t bang a priest.”

“So you _do_ want to.”

He sighed exasperatedly. “I- He isn’t- I mean, just… Sometimes. Yeah, no, I would.” He raised a helpless hand. “I mean, have you seen him? It’s ridiculous! He’s a priest, Sara! And he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life!”

She nodded in agreement. “He is. I mean, why the hell would he become a priest?”

“I have no idea, but I would do anything to go back in time and make him change his mind.”

“Just so you could bang him in the present?”

“Precisely.”

She narrowed her eyes at the distracted look on his face. “I don’t like that look, man. Don’t try anything.”

He blinked. “I won’t! I wouldn’t. I don’t think so.”

“He’s a priest! He has that oath thing!”

“Which he told me he’s broken,” said Shane quietly, leaning forwards. “Multiple times. I just don’t know if he’s straight or not.”

“Shane. Do not bang a priest.”

“Fine. Whatever. I guess I’ll just ignore how stupidly hot he is.” He sighed wearily, his hand against his forehead, propping his head up. “God, and you should see him when he gets all riled up. It’s his eyes, Sara. They go all sparkly.”

“Shane, forget about it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He was quiet for a long few seconds before sudden looking at her in earnest, leaning forwards. “And like, when he takes the blazer off, you can literally see his arms through his shirt, and holy fuck, Sara. They’re- He has no right. He has no right to make a priest outfit look hot.”

"You can't-" She suddenly dropped her gaze. “I’m not kidding. He’s coming in.”

“Is he coming over?” muttered Shane, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth.

“Mmhmm. And I see what you mean about the arms.”

“Shit.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you guys were friends.” Ryan stopped between them, smiling from one to the other. He had a pile of books in his arms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, seemingly abandoning the blazer. Much to Shane’s equal annoyance and appreciation. “I just came back to drop these off.”

“More creepy books?” she asked, putting a hand out for them. “You want to join us?”

Shane threw her a quick warning glare, but she was busy smiling brightly up at Ryan.

“I can’t,” he said with a pout. “I told Father Thomas I’d help him with some stuff.”

“Well, can’t abandon Father Thomas!” Shane slapped his hands down on the table, pushing himself to his feet. “I too have to get back to work. And so do you, Sara. Bye!"

"Hey, hey, wait." Ryan hurried after him, keeping his voice low. "I, uh, I just thought I should let you know that Father Alt is going to the Michel's later. At around half nine."

Shane's face grew stony, his eyes drifting away. "Right. Fantastic. I should be gone by then." Hm. The visiting priests were getting a bit too frequent for his liking.

"You're going?"

Shane looked back at this almost insulted sentence, an eyebrow raised. "Yeah, I'm going."

"Oh. Okay."

"Why are you looking at me like that? I don't _have_ to tell you."

Ryan shrugged, clearly a bit put-out. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But... I don't know."

"We're not co-workers, Ryan." Shane followed him towards the door, hands in his coat pockets. "I don't have to keep you informed."

"I know! I just thought-"

"Thought what? That we're buds now?" Shane closed the glass door after them, giving him a dry smile. "Ryan, we can barely be in the same room for five minutes without disagreeing over the whole thing. We're not friends."

Ryan looked away, hands on his hips. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Do you... Do you _want_ to be friends?"

"No! No way." He rolled his eyes, the flippant gesture a bit ruined by the small smile on his face. "With you? Nah."

He shrugged, also attempting to hide a grin. "Well then."

"Yeah. Have a good day." He gave a mock-salute, already turning away. "Acquaintance."

"Mm." Shane remained by the door, watching the other man heading back down the street, towards the looming structure of the church. "Hey, Ryan."

Ryan half-turned to look back at him. He didn't say anything.

"I'm going at around nine," he said, knowing full well he shouldn't be listening to anything other than his head right now. "Would be a pity if our schedules overlapped. Hate to have to spend more time with you."

The blush was evident even from the distance they were at. Ryan stayed quiet for a few long seconds. "Yeah. That'd be a pity."

He reluctantly turned away, Shane remaining where he was, watching him go. A sharp knock on the glass door beside Shane made him jump, turning to look at Sara's disapproving face. "I- What? What are you looking at?"

"That was flirting, Shane." Her voice was muffled slightly by the glass, but the scolding tone was not. "You literally just said you weren't going to try anything."

"Oh no it wasn't," he said, knowing full well this was a tiny bit of a lie. "C'mon. It wasn't."

"He'll get excommunicated or some shit, man!"

Shane rolled his eyes, turning away. "I'm not trying anything, alright! Relax."

* * *

She was worse. She was so much worse. Annaliese was eating spiders, eating flies, screaming, shouting, acting like a literal - dare anyone say it? - demon. Her mother was distraught, crying, weeping. Shane wasn't quite sure how to comfort her, or even how to begin. But thankfully, Ryan did. Shane watched from across the room as Ryan quite literally gave her a shoulder to cry on, to sob into. He was gentle, openly caring, not seeming bother by the fact she was basically using his blazer as a tissue. Shane wondered how someone could cover being both formidable and forbearing with equal talent. It was something he would've always liked to have been able to do. They'd only been able to stay for five minutes, in the end. Annaliese had taken one look at Shane and flipped, lashing out, surprisingly strong. It had been terrifying, not that Shane would ever admit it.

"Let me have a look," said Ryan once they'd stepped outside onto the porch, raising a hand, gently turning Shane's head to the side. "Ooh, that's a bruiser."

"Oh. I didn't notice." Shane gingerly pressed against his cheekbone again, wincing. "Jesus."

"It does _not_ like you, Shane."

"It?"

"The demon."

"Don't start on me here, Ryan." He grinned at him, wrapping his scarf back around his neck. "Don't kick me while I'm down. I'm in so much pain over here."

“That’s very sad. But if you’re in pain, sort yourself out.” Ryan raised his eyebrows, returning the smile. “I mean, you’re the doctor, after all.”

He looked down at him, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah. I am. But I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh, so _I_ can't start on _you_ , but you can start on me?”

"You started on me anyway!" Shane shrugged, pulling on his gloves. “Game recognizes game, Ryan. However inferior."

Ryan was quiet for a while, watching the taller man zipping up his coat, pausing to untangle the wool of his scarf, continuing on. "So you still think it's just epilepsy?"

"Yes, Ryan!" He rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "It's not a spooky scary ghoul. She's just a sick girl."

“You're taking your time coming up with an official diagnosis," said Ryan with raised eyebrow.

Shane scowled at him, the smile slipping. "Alright. I think that's enough."

"Does it usually take you this long?"

Shane gave him a flat look. “You know, all you do is try to argue with me. You’re a priest. Aren’t you meant to be a pacifist?”

“No, actually.” Ryan let a small smile play across his face. “The church wants peace, not pacifism. Meaning that yeah, wars are necessary, if they’re for a good cause.” He raised a meaningful eyebrow. “And sometimes _not_ fighting for a good cause is seen as a bigger evil. So there you go.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, looking him up and down, slowly. “Well. You got me.”

The front door cracked open again, Mrs Michel poking her pale face out. "Ryan... Could we talk for a moment? Just about- About Annaliese."

Shane frowned at this, feeling a tiny bit defensive over her choice of opinion here.

“Of course.” Ryan placed the back of his hand against the taller man’s chest, firmly pushing him aside. “Goodnight, Shane.”

Shane didn’t answer straight away, watching the shorter man head into the house. “Goodnight, Ryan.”

Ryan paused in the doorway, holding the door open as his eyes flickered to something behind Shane. “Oh. Father Alt.”

Shane turned to see that it was indeed the slimy priest himself. “Great.”

“Doctor,” greeted the priest with a weedy smile. “How are you tonight?”

“Fine.” He turned away, not returning the insincere question.

Ryan watched the taller man stride off down the driveway, looking highly irritated even just from his stance. Huh. The other priest joined him in the hallway, rolling his pale eyes.

“He’s a horrible man, isn’t he?”

Ryan blinked at this, genuinely surprised. “Uh, well, no. I wouldn’t think so.”

“What? But I heard your argument a few days ago! In the church of all places." He shook his head. "He was truly terrible to you.”

“He has his beliefs, and I have mine. I don’t think he’s a horrible man for that.”

“Oh, well, maybe not just for that.” He dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. “He’s one of… He’s immoral.”

Ryan frowned, puzzled. “He what?”

“He sleeps with men. Men and women.” He went on, clearly oblivious to the furious glitter now in Ryan’s eyes. “It’s not right. It just isn’t. It says it in the word of the Lord.”

“Oh. Does it.”

“It does. I’m sure you’ve read it. He’s a degenerate. He-”

“I think you should shut your mouth, you old bitch.”

Father Alt blinked in shock, his mouth falling open. “I- What?”

“It’s his private life. Private." Ryan's voice was sharp, cutting, his jabbing finger matching. "It’s none of your business, alright?”

Father Alt stuttered for a moment before finally finding words. “He- As you said, he has his beliefs, and I have-”

“Beliefs don’t apply when you’re discrediting someone else’s existence, you prick.” Ryan was tugging his gloves back on, unable to even look at the other man for fear he’d just start screaming. “You can talk to Mrs Michel. About Annaliese. I don’t want to work with one of the reasons the church is widely hated nowadays.”

He was out the door instantly, closing it a bit harder than necessary. He wasn't too sure where to go. The walk home was a bit daunting, due to the gathering darkness. He caught up with Shane in minutes, slightly breathless. “Hey! Hey, Shane! Wait up!”

And surprisingly, he did. Shane half-turned to look at him, his scarf wrapped up around his mouth, his pointy nose poking out over it. “Wait, what are you doing? Are you not talking to Mrs Michel?”

“Not with that son of a bitch there,” said Ryan, his anger still palpable. “I’d probably sock him in the face within minutes.”

“Ah. He made his views known, did he?”

“One of them.” Ryan was glaring at the ground as they walked, hands shoved into his pockets. “What a total dildo. I mean, then everyone wonders why priests are seen as fucking- God, whatever. I can’t even talk about it.”

“You’re mad.” Shane frowned at him, curious. “People don’t usually get so angry.”

Ryan avoided his eyes, staying focused on the leafy path. “People should get angry.”

“They do. But not as angry as you are.” Shane arched an eyebrow. “You’re almost as mad as I was when I found out he’s a complete homophobe.”

"It, uh..." Ryan was quiet for a minute. “It… It’s a tiny bit personal.”

Shane was also quiet for a minute. “Ah.” 

They wandered to a halt beside a silver car, looking at each other. Ryan swallowed, turning his eyes away. _Stupid. Stop being stupid_.

"You want to..." Shane gave his chin a distracted scratch, the light beard rough against his fingers. "You want to just go for a walk?"

Ryan looked back up at him. "A walk? Where?"

"What about the lake?"

"That's a bit more of a drive, though, isn't it?"

Shane lifted up his keys, the car beside them beeping loudly as he unlocked it. "Then we'll drive."

* * *

They left the car beside the old stone bridge; it was dark enough to be able to lose a car in the trees. At least if they knew exactly where they'd left it, they'd find it quicker. Or maybe they wanted a bit more time to just walk.

"So if you break literally any of them, it doesn't matter?"

Shane followed him towards the glistening of the lake through the trees, the silver fog floating over it. "Not unless it breaks the actual law, no. But enough about my oath. What happens if you break yours?"

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. "Which one?"

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. "You know the one."

"Nothing happens, really," shrugged the shorter man. "Maybe you go to Confession. That's usually fine."

"Usually?"

"Well, it depends on how often it happens," said Ryan, going quiet. "Or how, uh, how scandalous it is."

Shane realized he was fidgeting with his lighter in his pocket, quickly stopping. "And what determines the scandal-meter?"

A dry laugh. "You can probably guess."

"How public it is?" grinned Shane, side-stepping a branch. "Where it happens?"

"Kind of. But more along the lines of if the woman is married, or if..." He trailed off, wondering if he should say what he was going to say. "...Or if it's a woman at all."

Shane swiftly picked up the fidgeting again. "So gender really matters?"

"If the whole thing gets big enough, then yeah. It does." Ryan cleared his throat, trying to do so quietly. "Stuff like gender matters. Maybe... Maybe the person's occupation. Their reputation in their town. Their- Their past history with the local church, maybe."

Shane felt his chest grow tight at these oddly specific words. "Right."

"But only if it gets big. If it's blown out of proportion, really."

“...I don’t get it then.” Shane kept his hands in his pockets, ducking under another grabbing branch. “Why don’t you just go for what you want? If the- If the situation doesn't blow up, there’s no  _real_ consequences, right?”

Ryan came to a halt, half-turning to throw him a look not quite visible in the dark. “And you think I want something?”

Shane also wandered to a halt, the damp twigs snapping under his feet. He didn’t take his eyes from the glint of the shorter man’s, still fidgeting with his lighter in his pocket. Ryan suddenly dropped his gaze, as if realizing he’d been staring, choosing to kick distractedly at a rock.

“You don’t have anything in particular that you want?” asked Shane, trying to keep his words light, casual. He didn't really succeed. “Anything at all?”

Ryan threw him a quick look, remaining where he was. “Do you think that I do?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Ryan let his gaze linger on the shifting black canopy of leaves far above. He could feel the other man staring at him, even from the distance they were at. “I… Let’s just say that I do want something. Something I shouldn’t want. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oh?” Shane sounded just a tiny bit unhappy with this answer, a disapproving eyebrow raised. “You want things a lot, do you?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” He pressed his lips together in a firm line as he thought, letting the rustle of the leaves and the distant running water fill the silence. “It- Most of the time, it passes. After a while. It was just a quick… a quick want. And the majority of the time, if I don’t act on these wants, they just go away. I stop wanting.”

“And what if you don’t stop wanting?” Shane was crossing the space between them, hands still in his pockets, the neck of his coat zipped up to cover his chin. “Does it ever become a need?”

Ryan looked away, shoving his own hands into his jacket pockets, deep down. “Sometimes. Rarely.”

“And that’s when you act on it, is it?”

Ryan still refused to look at him, despite the fact the taller man was now directly in front of him. “I don't know.”

Shane didn’t reply for a long moment. Ryan swallowed, keeping his eyes on the ground, panicking at the thought of what he might do if Shane did try anything. Really, he probably wouldn’t stop him. That was the bad part. That was the dangerous part.

“You don’t want me to do anything right now, do you?” said Shane quietly, his voice close. Too close.

“No. No, I don’t.” Ryan finally looked back up at him, his heart jumping in his chest the second their eyes met. “And that’s not a challenge.”

“I know.” Shane took a minute to decide to back off, stepping around the shorter man and continuing through the trees. “You’re killing me, Ryan. You really are.”

“It’s not my fault you want something you can’t have,” said Ryan moodily, following a few feet behind.

“I’m not blaming you, man. I’m not.” He adjusted his scarf more firmly around his neck, his chin. The air was getting colder as they got closer to the water. “But it’s frustrating for me too.”

Ryan didn’t respond to this, wondering if he should just bolt. Run before he did something stupid. Instead, he kept going, his breath beginning to fog in the air. A thin mist. He could see Shane’s doing the same.

“Have you ever been caught?” asked Shane, not turning to look at him as he spoke. “Ever?”

“No.”

“So there’s no little Ryans running around out there?”

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should say what he was going to say. “There’s definitely no fear of that. No little Ryans.”

Shane stopped at this, turning to look back at him with a half-smile. “So wait. You’re a _gay_ _priest_ who’s broken his oath of chastity multiple times? Don’t you think God would be a bit pissed at you by now?”

“Probably.” Ryan avoided his eyes as he passed him by. “But I try to be a good person. Try to see the good in everyone else. I hope that’ll be a bit more important than the fact I like dudes.”

“You’d never know with the Big Guy, Ryan. Didn’t he flood the whole planet because he didn’t like the way people were acting?” He laughed quietly. “And that whole thing with the plagues. And the Angel of Death. I hope this doesn’t upset you too much, but he sounds a bit… impulsive.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, hearing the taller man beginning to follow, down to the shore. “He’s older now. Hopefully he’ll have settled down a bit.”

“You sure? What if you just combust into flames one day because God’s gotten sick of your shit?”

“If he does decide to do something like that, I have a feeling you’ll go down long before I will,” replied Ryan with a flash of a smile over his shoulder.

Shane laughed at this, the low mist along the ground swirling as Ryan walked through it. “To be honest, I forget you’re a priest literally every time I talk to you. You’re just a bit too…”

“Young?”

“Funny, mainly,” replied Shane, shrugging. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a priest like you in my life.”

“Like me?” Ryan turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Just because I’m not an old white man?”

“No, I didn’t mean  _that_.” Shane came to a halt just beside him, still smiling. “I meant your… your face. And the rest of you.”

Ryan could feel himself reddening, hoping the fog would cool him down a bit. “Oh. Yeah.”

The waves were quiet, lapping over the stones, trickling through the pebbles. The sound of Shane lighting a cigarette contrasted sharply; the click of the lighter, the low fizzle. Ryan let himself look at the taller man's face as the flame from the lighter illuminated it, for two seconds at most. He shouldn't have come. Really, what was he thinking? It wasn't just a walk, a chat. Who the hell goes for a walk with their local doctor, who they don't even really know? Ryan glanced away as Shane's eyes flickered to meet his. There was a silence, the entire time of which Ryan could literally feel Shane's eyes on his face.

"Do you dream a lot?" asked Ryan into the quiet, watching the smoke from the cigarette float into the dark sky.

"Do I dream a lot?"

"Yeah."

Shane shrugged, his gaze distant. "Sometimes. Do you?"

He nodded, beginning to walk down towards the boathouse. "A lot."

He heard the pebbles scraping as Shane followed behind him. "I'm not really surprised. You strike me as a bit of a whimsical man."

"Whimsical?" Ryan smiled, thankful that the other man couldn't see. "I like that."

"Huh. I don't know if I meant it as a compliment." 

"Well I'm gonna take it as one," shrugged Ryan, turning to show him the wide smile still on his face. "I'm not like you, full to the brim with science. I like thinking there's stuff out there that'll never be explained."

Shane's face was dimly lit by the cigarette, his features just about visible. "No. You're not like me. You're not really like anyone in this town."

Ryan flushed at this, turning away to hide it. "I'm pretty sure there's people in this town that are like me."

"I've lived here for longer than you have." He passed him by, a leisurely pace. "I know you're not like anyone else here."

The rope was still broken from when Ryan had last been there. Ryan took a deep breath before climbing the few steps, looking at the half-hidden boathouse at the end of the dock. Shane wandered to a halt on the stones below, listening to the trickling water, the rustling leaves, Ryan's footsteps on the damp planks.

"What are you doing, man?" He didn't follow, flicking his cigarette aside, hearing it immediately go out on the damp stones below. "This isn't the most stable structure."

"I was reading up on this place." Ryan came to a halt above him, his figure silhouetted against the purple sky. "The lake. It's pretty- pretty doused in history."

"History?"

"Mythology." He heard the wood creaking quietly as Shane joined him up on the dock. "Stuff about kings and queens and stuff."

"And swords in lakes?" added Shane wryly. "And wizards and witches?" He suddenly jumped, pointing across the lake, at the silhouetted trees in the distance. "Oh my fucking God, look! It's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"Come on, dude," said Ryan in mock-disapproval. "Can you ever be serious for more than five seconds?"

"Life's too short to be wasting time being serious." He came to a halt right in front of him, his breath fogging in the cold, mixing with the shorter man's. "Life's too short in general, really. To waste time not doing what you want."

Ryan forced himself to turn away, hearing the quiet, frustrated exhale behind him. "It's not that short."

"It's almost as short as you are."

"Ha. Good one."

Ryan's eyes flickered to something in the water. It wasn't that far. It was actually relatively close. He let Shane continue on down the dock, moving to the edge himself, crouching down. The something in the water was floating back and forth, swimming. Shane's voice came from further down the dock, sounding a bit echo-ey. He must've gone into the boathouse. Ryan squinted at the person in the lake. He wasn't imagining it. He could see an arm coming up every now and then. It raised a hand, waving. Waving right at him. Ryan couldn't speak, his mouth hanging open. Who the hell would go for a swim so late at night? 

_"Are you awake?"_

Ryan almost fell off the dock, scrambling to get back to his feet, spinning wildly. "Shane? Shane, was that you?"

_"I'm here."_

"Shane!" He glanced back at the lake, seeing the person was gone completely. Not on the shore. Not coming up for air. Just gone. "Shane, where are you?"

The taller man finally reappeared from inside the boathouse, looking just as shaken. Shane came right down the dock, suddenly grabbing Ryan's face, pulling him forwards, looking right into his eyes. "Are you real? Am I dreaming?"

Ryan's answer was surprisingly calm - not entirely, but unexpectedly - as if this question wasn't bordering on insane. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm real! Are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He let go of him, looking back at the boathouse with wide eyes. "Let's go. Let's go back to town. It's late."

Ryan immediately followed, wondering what had Shane seeming as jumpy as he was. "What's that shop in town? The creepy one?"

"The witch-doctor one?" Shane didn't look at him as he spoke, barreling through the trees. "Uh, I don't know. Curly Velasquez owns it. He's cool."

"What time does it open at?"

Shane shrugged. "I'm not sure."

He hoped it was early. His hand was still in his coat pocket, still holding the heavy stone carving. He just hoped it was early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/bD6sTDH9Zdc (if anyone is like me and uses songs for inspo, this is what i used as a basis for shane and ryan in this)  
> https://youtu.be/bpFUc8ABDMQ (but also this is how it's gonna end I think. little bit of a spoiler)
> 
> uhh also I just wrote the ending listening to the song above and also 'About Today' by The National and I'm fucking crying??? it's SO SAD . I made myself cry writing it. Damn @myself what's your damage


	6. In Advance

They didn’t see each other for a day or two. Half because they were both busy tending to Annaliese in drastically different fashions; Mrs Michel was determined her daughter get an exorcism. The first one was scheduled for next Monday, by Father Alt. Shane was understandably furious. Ryan wanted to stay out of it. Another reason for their avoiding each other was, well, to avoid each other. Which was difficult, seeing as they saw each other almost every day in the street. But in the dark, their little conversation, their confirmation of their feelings hadn't seemed as real. In the light of day, in the town, where the rest of the world was... It was very real. Scarily real. But the biggest reason was that they were both attempting to piece together their separate - but not actually that separate - dreams.

It was Sunday evening. The day before the dreaded exorcism that had people acting as if a Kardashian was coming to town, and not a potential demon. Ryan found himself in Curly's shop. It was a strange shop, just a few doors down from Steven and Andrew's cafe. It didn't have a name, but it had literally everything else. Anything else. A whole bundle of crap, really, strewn throughout the small hallways that all linked together one way or another. And an owner who was just as superstitious and generally excitable as Ryan himself was.

"You go to the lake a lot?"

"No. Not a lot." Ryan paused, looking thoughtful for a second. "I didn't used to go a lot, anyway."

Curly leaned over the counter, his jeweled fingers interlocked, multiple necklaces swinging. "Well, no, that'd make sense then. Seeing weird shit."

"Oh, really?" Ryan was both relieved and panicked at these words, eyes wide. "Why? Why would it make sense?"

"Lakes are a barrier, man. Well, a portal, in a way." Curly gestured freely as he spoke, his signature curls bouncing. "It's like, water has so much life attached to it, and because of that it has energy all around it. It's like there's a thick curtain between our world and their world, and in some places it's made of stone, but in other places - like lakes and rivers - it's so thin something could slip through at any time!"

Ryan swallowed, thinking back to the woman he'd seen in the lake, to the rumbling voice from the boathouse. "I was reading up on the lake. It used to be a place for sacrifices and stuff, right?"

"Oh, big time. Back in the day."

"Why?"

"Demons," said Curly, a dramatic flair of his fingers accompanying the gesture. "But, well, not really. Hey, Kelsey. C'mere."

The blonde head of Kelsey appeared around the colorful shelves of junk, her eyebrows raised. An earphone hung from one ear. "Yo."

"What's that thing about the demons you were telling me the other day?"

She fumbled to hold all the items she was juggling, pulling out her one headphone. "Who wants to know? Ryan?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I'm interested."

"Well be ready to feel a bit bad, bro." She continued sorting out the shelves as she spoke. "There's all those tales of demons around the lake and stuff, but they're not demons. They're gods."

He frowned slightly at this. "Gods?"

"Mmhmm. Until Christianity came waving its dick around." She threw him another quick look. "No offense, my guy."

"None taken." He checked his watch; he still had time before the next mass. "What gods?"

"Oh, I remember the main one!" Curly grinned excitedly, the glitter of his dark eyes matching his earrings. "The god of death. Balor of the Eye."

"Of the _Evil_ Eye," corrected Kelsey, placing a hand over one of her own eyes. "He had one eye, and it could kill someone just by looking. It was so powerful, he had to wear seven cloaks over it. And then there's Lilith, she-"

"Sounds like a child's tale." Shane closed the door behind him, the other three occupants of the shop turning to look at him. "A cyclops, was he?"

"Maybe," said Kelsey, oblivious to how Ryan had begun to move away into the shelves as the new arrival joined them. "But Lilith wasn't. She was just a woman, and she drowned. Or she _was_ drowned, for being too beautiful, too 'tempting' to men." She snorted. "What bullshit, right?"

"Right." Shane let his gaze flicker to the shelves, trying to catch a glimpse of Ryan. "I found this the other day. Any idea what it is?"

He placed the stone carving he'd found in the boathouse down on the counter between him and Curly, leaving the two shopkeepers to faff over it. He had to talk to him. Even just for two seconds. 

"Ryan." He said the name quietly, moving silently through the dark shelves, the shadowed halls. "Ryan, stop running away. We can't just keep avoiding each other."

"I'm not running away." 

The voice came from almost right beside him. Shane glanced down, through a gap between two leather-bound books, between which sat Ryan's dark eyes, looking right back at him. Neither spoke for a second.

"You're avoiding me," whispered Shane, leaning down to speak to him through the shelf. "Stop avoiding me."

"You're avoiding me too!" hissed Ryan, sparing a quick look down the hall on his side to make sure neither of the shopkeepers had come looking for them. "Which is good. It's good for me."

"You're acting like a child! We should _talk_ about this."

"About what?"

Shane sighed sharply, leaning on the shelves between them. "Don't act dumb, Ryan. I know you're not dumb. You know that there's- there's something brewing here."

"That's exactly why I'm avoiding you!" Ryan stood on his tip-toes so that the white patch on his collar was visible through the gap. "Remember this? I do!"

"Yeah. I remember it." Shane's voice was flat, unimpressed. "And I hate it."

"Well it exists. So just-"

"Just what?" Shane's eyes narrowed, a hand pushing aside one of the books so that he could see Ryan's own eyes more clearly. "Keep acting like a stupid teenager? No, Ryan. You can't do this. You can't tell me that..." He spared a glance either side, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You can't tell me that you want me too, then just stop talking to me! You're ghosting me, man! Physically! That's not cool!"

"I just need to wait for this to pass," replied Ryan in the same tone. "It'll go."

"It might go for you! But it won't for me!" 

"That's not my problem!" he hissed, beginning to move away.

"You're being an asshole, Ryan." He mirrored the shorter man, staying low enough to see him through the shelves. "I'm not just another one of your 'wants', man. I'm a fucking person. I have feelings and shit."

Ryan came to a halt, closing his eyes. "Fine. We'll talk. Just not now."

"Then when?" Shane's neck was beginning to hurt from bending it for so long, but he was pretty certain that if he straightened up, Ryan would vanish in seconds. "When can we talk? Because it's important."

"Really important?"

Shane shrugged, looking away. "Yeah. Yeah, really important."

A long pause. "Meet me at the lake. At the boathouse. At nine."

"God. So secretive."

"It has to be secretive!" Ryan was reddening slightly, avoiding the other man's eyes. "Father Alt was asking questions."

Shane felt his teeth gritting. "Of course he was. But he can't do shit about you. If you're gay, you're-"

"Not about me. About you." He swallowed, throwing another cautious glance down the hall. "About us."

"Ah. Right." Shane lowered his gaze, lips pressed together in a firm line. "Well there's nothing for you to hide. Because nothing's happened."

Ryan nodded, his fists clenching in his pockets. "Yeah. Yeah, nothing's happened." _Yet_.

"So there." Shane straightened up again, taking a deep breath, unaware as to how this left Ryan with nothing to look at but his opened collar, and the bared skin behind it. "The lake at nine. Don't back out on me, alright?"

Ryan was already moving off, biting down on his lip hard enough to hurt. He didn't reply. Shane took a moment to just stand, resting his head against the cool bookshelves, eyes closed. He'd always considered himself a man who had great self-control, but damn, was this one testing him. He just had to tell him. Tonight. It's over, it has to be over. But how do you end something that never really started?

* * *

Shane had almost hoped the other man wouldn't show up, but he had. He was there when Shane arrived, sitting on the old steps leading up to the boathouse. He was distractedly chucking pebbles into the shallows a few feet away, the quiet splashes the only real sound out here. The only sound that let nature know it was no longer alone. Shane went to light a cigarette, but simply stopped. The flame was lit, the cigarette was in his mouth, but he just couldn't join them. He didn't know why. Maybe the thought of something fizzling out in his hands was just a bit too real right now. He took a seat beside Ryan on the wooden step, the two of them silent for a few minutes. Silent but for the splashing of stones landing in the lake a few feet away.

"They're still going through with the exorcism tomorrow, hm?" asked Shane, hoping desperately that the answer would be no. That'd make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier. 

"Yeah." Ryan kept his head turned away, looking at the glittering water stretching way off, to the pines on the other side. "I tried."

Shane frowned at this. "Tried what?"

"To make Father Alt and Father Renz cooperate with you." Ryan tossed another stone, his voice quieter than the splash. "Annaliese is dying."

"No. Not yet."

"She won't eat, Shane." He turned his head finally, looking at him with wide eyes. "Mrs Michel isn't telling you some stuff, because she thinks you can't help anymore. And I shouldn't be telling you this, because she told me in secrecy, she made me swear I wouldn't-"

Shane's hand on his leg made him go silent, his mouth going dry. "Ryan. You told me at the beginning of all this that if something important came up, you'd tell me. This is important. So please." He looked him right in the eye, swallowing. "Tell me."

Ryan nodded, slowly. "She's not eating. She- She hears scratching on her walls at night. Her sisters hear them too. But the main thing, the bit relevant to you, is she's completely against letting any more doctors see her." He looked anxious, eyes still wide. "She begged me, Shane. She got on her knees and literally begged me not to tell you this stuff." 

"Who? Mrs Michel?"

Ryan shook his head. "No. Annaliese."

Shane sighed heavily, forcefully. "She needs to be brought in. She needs to be-"

"She needs to be force-fed, she needs to be tranquilized, or something!" Ryan placed his hand on Shane's, ignoring the voice in his head saying that he should most definitely not do this. "I do still believe she's possessed. I do. But she still needs medical attention. She needs _you_ , Shane."

"Ryan, after tomorrow..." He let his words trail off, biting down hard on his lip. Fuck, why was this so hard? "I won't be able to be- to be seen with you. We can't be friends anymore. Or whatever we are."

Ryan's heart skipped, and not in a nice way. "What?"

"I'll need to show my disapproval of the whole exorcism bullshit," shrugged Shane, almost apologetically. "I can't do that if I'm spending the majority of my waking time with a priest. You know I don't have a choice here."

 _This could be it, Ryan. Use it. End this now_. "No, wait, what? Slow down." He blinked, staring at the pebbles below. "You'll just stop talking to me?"

"I don't want people thinking I approve of the stupid exorcisms!" insisted Shane, also staring down at the shore. "We'll have to stop, well, spending time together."

"Why?" He swallowed, not liking the panicked swirling in his chest at the taller man's words. "We're just people. We can still talk."

"People will judge, Ryan. They'll judge me."

"We can show them they're wrong!" His eyes were wide as he turned back, begging Shane to just look at him. "We can show them that people on opposite ends of the belief system can just be friends. That there's more to everything than what people first see."

Shane was quiet for a long minute. "And we're just friends, are we?"

Ryan took a deep breath, not looking away as the taller man finally lifted his gaze to meet his. "We're just people."

"People."

"People... People who need things, sometimes." Ryan saw the sudden spark in Shane's eyes, saw his jaw unclench. " _I'm_ just a person. And I need... I need things. And sometimes I need things so much it hurts."

"Ryan." His voice was low, warning. "Don't."

Ryan got to his feet, unable to stand the heat of the other man sitting right beside him. "I know. I know, I'm sorry. Shit."

Shane stood up slowly, almost as if scared he might frighten him away if he moved too suddenly. "I can't. We can't. Especially not now. It'd look very, very bad. For both of us."

"I- I don't care." His voice was so quiet it was barely audible. "No, I do care. I care. Fuck, I don't know. I don't _know_." 

“Ryan, I can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, sitting back in the middle of the top step, a hand tangled in his hair. “Not if it can just backfire at any second.”

“Backfire?”

“I- I don’t even know you that well, man.”

Ryan looked at him, willing him to look back. "But... But we were getting to know each other. A bit."

"But  _why_?" Shane finally lifted his head again, eyes wide, confused. "Why are- _were_ \- we getting to know each other? Why were we hanging around together so much?"

"...I don't know."

"Ryan, you know how I... How I feel. About you." Shane closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands for a long moment. "I could handle it. I could handle the- the not being allowed to touch you, or do anything, but I could only handle that if we didn't  _see_  each other so much." His hands ran back through his hair again, his head hanging. "God, you don't understand. Whenever we're alone, I just- I just want to fucking-"

"I do understand," said Ryan firmly. "I do. I mean, look at me. Look at what I am."

"Then why are we doing this?" he asked exasperatedly. "Why are we fucking torturing ourselves here?"

Ryan looked away, lips pressed together in a firm line, hands on his hips. "I-"

"Don't say you don't know." Shane sounded almost irritated, but not at Ryan. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it all. "Every time I have to tell myself that this, that you and me, it's never going to happen. It can't happen. But it's getting harder, Ryan. It's getting really fucking hard."

Ryan lowered his gaze again, silent. "It'll just blow over. It has to."

“But we don’t  _know_  that. I mean, do you even want this?” He spread his arms helplessly, elbows resting on his knees. “What even is this? What’s it gonna end up like? You’re a priest for life, Ryan. Why are  _you_  doing this?”

Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Why are you doing this to  _me_?” Shane got to his feet, rubbing a weary hand down his face. “God, it doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

“Shane, slow down.” He moved forwards a step, his breath hitching. “I didn’t know you were thinking about it so much.”

“And you’re not?”

“I am. Literally all the time.” Ryan’s eyes were wide, sincere. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. All I know is I can’t stop.”

Shane held his gaze for a long moment before looking away, closing his eyes. “Fuck. Me neither.”

“...I want this." _Oh no. Shut up_. "I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how long it’ll last. I don't know if it'll even go anywhere. I don't  _know_ , Shane.” Ryan shrugged helplessly, well aware of how useless he was in the current moment. “But I- I can’t just end it. I can’t.”

"Do you want to end it?" Shane swallowed, hard. "Do you want me to leave?"

Ryan was silent for a long while. He gave the smallest shake of his head, a subtle gesture. His fists clenched in his pockets as Shane closed the small gap between them, their slow breaths equally shaky. Shane took his hands from his pockets, settling on the shorter man's waist, pulling him in slightly. 

Their lips slowly fit together, a curious kiss, a wary one. Ryan’s eyes fluttered closed, his hand slipping around the back of the taller man’s neck, guiding him in. They broke off, gently, staying close. Their mouths met again, harder, the two men inhaling deeply as they pressed against each other, hands settling, grabbing, holding. Ryan’s heart was beating so fast he was almost worried. He wasn’t sure why. Was this just a dream? Would that be any better? But no, this was real. A fact which had him both terrified and excited.

It took all of thirty seconds for Shane to have him up against the side of the dock, pushing forwards, slipping one of his legs between the shorter man’s, their bodies pressed together. Ryan felt the cool dampness of the wood against his shoulders as he hit back against it, hearing the low moan as he drew the taller man deeper in with a fierce pull at his shirt collar, Shane’s hands tightening on his hips. Ryan rested his head back against the cold wood as he let Shane have free reign over him, trailing starved kisses down his neck, Ryan’s fingers digging into his back, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. Everything felt vague, as it always did at the lake. Everything apart from Shane. His hands, his lips, his tongue, his hot breath, the wetness left on Ryan’s skin, it all felt so real. Scarily so. Ryan cupped the taller man's face with gloved hands, drawing him back into a hungry kiss, knowing that this was it. This was what he wanted. More than anything.

He realized they'd stopped. They simply stood, his hands still holding the taller man's face, their mouths still hovering close, lips still parted, eyes still closed. It was silent, but for the lazily lapping water, the low rustle of leaves above them, around them. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. It was like they were at a crime scene.

Shane's voice was hushed, painfully secretive. A thought he'd been hiding so deeply it was basically a secret from himself as well as the man in front of him. "I just need one night. One. With you."

Ryan could feel the words against his lips, making his pulse flutter. "I can't. I can't." He buried his face in the taller man's shoulder, the scarf warm and soft against his skin. He felt Shane's chin resting on top of his head, the taller man's arms tighten around him. "God, I want to. I do. So much."

Shane closed his eyes at the words, trying to tell himself that it was just lust he was feeling. Nothing else. He could walk away, he could control himself. But he knew this wasn't entirely true. There was a part of him that had begun to like the guy. Really like him. A lot. He wanted one night with him, not just to satisfy his physical urges, but also to just _know_. To just _be_ with Ryan. To get a taste, the tiniest taste, of what it could've been like. If Ryan wasn't what he was. And if the events unfolding weren't actually unfolding at all.

“Just…” Shane sat back down on the step, leaning back, his hands covering his face. “Just try. To stop. It’s not going to go anywhere.”

“I know.”

Shane opened his eyes at the sudden proximity of the other man’s voice, his hands dropping from his face. “Ryan.”

“I don’t want this to be over. Not yet.” Ryan was standing right in front of him, looking down into his eyes, breath fogging. “I don’t think I could. I don’t think I can help myself.”

Shane closed his eyes as the shorter man straddled him, feeling the breath ghost across his lips. “God, don’t.” He adjusted Ryan more firmly against him, leaning forwards, mumbling the words against the other man’s neck. “Please. Don't do this to me." His voice went quiet, desperately quiet. "I want you. So fucking bad.”

Ryan closed his eyes at the warmth of the words against his skin, the stubble scratching him. He swallowed, lips parted as he drew a shaky breath. He should just get up. He should just leave. Really, he should transfer immediately, to some parish across the damn country. His voice was a whisper, shaking slightly.

“Then take me.”

Shane immediately tilted his head up, his mouth meeting Ryan’s in a fierce kiss, a starved moan escaping as their tongues brushed. His hands gripped the shorter man’s hips almost painfully tight, pulling him forwards against him, Ryan’s arms wrapping around his neck, staying firm as their mouths moved against each other, almost messy as their movements grew more desperate, more uncontrolled. Hands everywhere, thoughts nowhere.

“Fuck,” breathed Ryan mid-kiss, feeling Shane’s fingers deftly unzipping his coat, undoing his shirt, chucking aside the stiff white collar, just desperate to touch him, to feel him. The gloves had been taken off, it appeared. “Oh fuck. Now. I want you.” He pulled Shane’s tie loose, their panted breaths mingling, gazes lowered as they tugged at each other’s clothing. “Shane, I-”

His own shuddered inhale cut off his sentence as the lips landed on his neck, working their way up, hard, harsh. Shane was pressed against him so firmly Ryan had to keep his arms around his neck to keep himself upright, pushing forwards against the taller man as he felt the tongue rough along his jaw. He could feel Shane's hands exploring under his shirt, running up his waist, his ribs, up his chest, his neck, cupping his face, pulling him further in.

“Shane. Now.” His words were gasped, breathless. “ _Now_. I need you now.”

The taller man suddenly broke away, his mouth still hanging open as he caught his breath, keeping their bodies pressed together. Ryan moved forwards, Shane turning his head aside at the last second. A desperate attempt to control himself, to ignore the burning feeling deep in his stomach. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he felt Ryan softly kiss the side of his face, just at the corner of his mouth. Shane couldn’t help it. He physically couldn’t. He turned his head back, letting their lips meet again, mouths fitting together. It was too good. It was too tempting. He couldn’t walk away. He just couldn’t.

“Ryan,  _please_.” He buried his face in the shorter man’s shoulder, breathing him in as he felt the hand run back through his hair. “I can’t do this. You’re killing me.”

For a long few minutes, it was just silence. Silence as the two men tried to reason with themselves, tried to focus, tried to get back on track. Ryan used the old rusted rails of the steps to push himself to his feet, his open shirt falling forwards, Shane’s fingers dragging down his back, catching on his belt. Holding him.

“Stop,” whispered Ryan, eyes still closed, feeling the warm breath against his stomach. “Don’t.”

Shane’s mouth pressed against his stomach, just under his ribs. His hands slid under Ryan’s open shirt, pulling him forwards as he pushed another kiss into his skin, almost able to feel the racing pulse against his lips. Ryan sat back down, kissing him hard, reckless, unable to hold himself back, unable to even think straight. Shane seemed to have let go of common sense too, but fuck, had he left claw marks in it. He pushed himself to his feet, keeping his mouth on Ryan’s as he maneuvered him backwards, their fingers digging into each other.

The car wasn't that far, only a few meters away in the darkness of the trees. They could only really locate each other by their misty breaths as they made their way towards it, Ryan's gloved hand in Shane's. The darkness was almost welcome, really. Maybe if they couldn't see each other, the reality, the stupidity of what they were about to do wouldn't feel as serious.

The taller man stopped at the bonnet, unable to make it through the motions of unlocking the car, of opening the door. He couldn't wait that long _._ He sat the shorter man up on the smooth metal, their mouths finding each other again, hands holding each other's faces. All he could feel was Ryan. His mouth, his hands, his hot, panted breaths against his neck as Shane pushed his hips between Ryan's legs, laying the shorter man down flat on the bonnet. And boy, was he glad the clerical collar was gone. It meant he didn't have to think about it, acknowledge the fact that this could never go anywhere. He laid a soft kiss were the white collar usually lay, his hands moving to Ryan's thighs, adjusting them firmer either side of him. 

"Shane."

He raised his head at his whispered name, seeing the shine off the other man's eyes in the dim light from the sky. "Yeah?"

Ryan didn't reply for a long moment, his shaky breaths the only sound from him. "I'm sorry. Just... Just in advance."

Shane closed his eyes. His voice was so hoarsely quiet it was barely audible. "Oh God." He rested his lips back against Ryan's chest, feeling the warmth. The life. "God, me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BucfErwPTWs inspo for the last scene (like, the entire song. the whole thing. it fits)
> 
> (p.s. the potential demon shane aspect is gone, mainly because i really want to include the ending i've written, and it won't fit if i follow the demon shane thing i was gonna try. maybe next time, folks)
> 
> (p.p.s. but there's still gonna be demons. hella demons)


	7. Origin

Ryan moved through the trees, a hand on the damp bark of the one he hid behind. It was misty, foggy, thick and low. He could still see her, running ahead, her white dress floating behind her. Her light giggles floated too, back through the trees.

They were near the lake. He could hear the water of of the river, he could just about make out the stone bridge through the fog. But he followed Annaliese the opposite direction, towards the lake, staying close. She didn't seem to notice he was there. She was too busy following someone ahead, a woman, with long hair that was red, but appeared black through the mist. Ryan followed them to the boathouse, staying in the trees as he watched the strange woman holding a hand out for Annaliese to take. The girl did so. Annaliese was younger, about fifteen. Not the twenty-something year old that existed in the real world.

Ryan knew how to tell the difference between his regular dreams and this dream. His regular dreams were still odd, still wacky and nonsensical. This one wasn't. It seemed to make sense, but he just couldn't figure out how. And unlike his other dreams, where various strangers and daft creatures made their appearances, this dream always had the same faces; Annaliese, the horseman, and Shane. But this woman with the red hair, she was new. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of her. Or who she was. 

"Come, child." Her voice sounded familiar as she spoke to Annaliese, hand in hand with the girl. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" 

"Good. I'm happy."

Ryan followed them to the dock of the boathouse, his steps slowing as he saw the strange woman lead Annaliese down to the shore, into the water. He'd seen this before, just without the woman. He jumped as he saw the movement at the opposite end of the shore, the tall, coated figure of Shane descending from the treeline. He didn't seem as panicked as the last time Annaliese had wandered into the water. By now, they were both simply observing. Like it was a story of some kind.

Ryan took his eyes from the distant figure of Shane just in time to see the red-haired woman carry Annaliese further into the water, too deep for the younger girl to be able to touch the rocks below. She held Annaliese like a baby, hands under her arms, playfully dragging her in circles. The woman was beautiful, even from the distance she was at. A bitter kind of beauty. Her bright blue eyes suddenly fixed on Ryan, sending a sharp shock through his body. And then she was gone, and Annaliese was splashing, but she was in too deep, she couldn't get back out. Just like every other time. He stepped forwards, seeing that Shane was already running towards the water, his coat flapping around him. He knew better than to go in too far, however, since the water quite literally tried to drag him right in last time. And drowning is an unpleasant sensation, both awake and asleep.

"Where is she?" Shane turned to look at Ryan, but the shorter man was striding towards the rickety old boathouse. "Hey, man! Wait!"

Ryan paused at the doors, his heart racing almost painfully hard. He could hear the swelling water inside, the rise and fall of the waves almost obscuring the murmurs. He leaned into the darkness to try and hear better, and the silence enveloped the ramshackle building like it had been dunked entirely underwater. He could hear wet footsteps, the quiet squish of damp shoes.

"Hello?" His voice was so quiet he could barely hear himself, so shaky the word was hardly distinguishable. "Who are you?"

A face slowly became visible, half-hidden in the inky blackness. It was no longer a beautiful face. It was bloated, the flesh sagging, the red hair stuck to the grey skin like cracks in porcelain. Her eyes were still bright, still blue, hidden in the folds of thickened skin. Ryan couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. The shifting of shadows as a limb stretched out, bloated and full.

"You took me," came the voice, and it sounded nothing like a woman. It sounded horrific, gravelly and grating. "So I will take one of yours."

Ryan was shaking, his raised hands trembling furiously. "Who- Who are you?"

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life."

"Ryan?" Shane sounded puzzled, his footsteps loud against the dock. "You good?"

The woman's eyes shifted to the approaching man, and her ugly face twisted into a hateful glare. The scream that left her mouth was inhumane. As was she.

* * *

Ryan jumped awake, the sound of the woman's screech still ringing in his head. He sat upright, breathing heavily, eyes wide. The weight of Shane's hand on his arm gave him enough concrete reality to calm him down, his breathing slowing to long inhales, longer exhales. He felt the covers shifting as Shane sat up beside him, a hand on each of his arms, turning him to face him. It wasn't very effective in the darkness, but it was still comforting. Knowing that Shane was there. Even though it should most definitely not be comforting.

"You alright?" whispered Shane, a hand moving to cup Ryan's face. "Bad dream?"

Ryan nodded, swallowing. "Yeah. Yeah, bad dream." _Terrifying dream_.

"Me too." 

He felt the bed shake slightly as Shane got to his feet, moving out of the room, the hall light flickering on. Ryan took a deep, calming breath, pressing Shane's t-shirt to his nose as he did so. It was a comfy item of clothing, and also a necessary one, seeing as he couldn't exactly sleep in his... in his... Ryan swallowed as his eyes landed on the black shirt on the floor a few feet away, the white collar probably bundled up in it. He closed his eyes, turning his head away.

Shane was back in fifteen minutes, a cup of tea in each hand, the steam visible with the backdrop of the hall light. Ryan gratefully accepted it, smiling up at Shane as the taller man sat back beside him. It was quiet but for the occasional sip, but it wasn't awkward. It was actually scary, thought Ryan, how quickly they grew used to each other. Soulmates were never an idea he'd taken seriously, or an idea he'd allowed himself to ponder for too long. But damn, it certainly was a kick in the head. A kick that he kept coming back for.

"I had a dream about Annaliese," said Ryan quietly, hearing Shane pause mid-sip. "It just spooked me out."

A swallow, a pause. "Yeah. I'd say it was pretty scary. Especially with all the shit going on. It must be getting to your head."

"I don't know, dude. I'm staying out of the exorcisms. I don't _want_ to be involved."

Shane's smile was audible as he spoke. "Mm. I must be rubbing some common sense onto you." Another sip of tea. "How many is that now?"

Ryan dropped his gaze, staring into his own tea. "How many what?"

"C'mon, man. I won't get mad. I don't blame you for all this." Shane laughed dryly. "Even though I definitely should."

Ryan sighed wearily. "Forty-two. Forty-two exorcisms."

Shane closed his eyes at the number, inhaling deeply. "God, that's annoying. It's very fucking annoying."

It had been around six months since the first exorcism, and things had not gotten any better. Annaliese was unrecognizable, bed-bound, and responding in very concerning fashions to the priests who entered the room. Mrs Michel had started recording the exorcisms, under Father Alt's advice. He knew how this was going to end, and he wanted to be ready. 

It had also been six months since Shane and Ryan had started this... habit. This habit of late-night visits, late nights that often went on into early mornings. Few people knew. Shane had told Sara, but he'd trust her with quite literally anything. Steven and Andrew had guessed. But only Shane and Ryan _really_ knew. Only they knew how erratic, how risky it was. Some nights Ryan would refuse to leave his apartment, pacing around, wide awake, unable to stop himself from panicking at the thought of what would happen if they got caught. If _he_ got caught, more specifically. Those were the nights where he was both relieved and stressed if Shane showed up. The nights where he just wanted Shane to fuck him hard, to just distract him from the very situation they were in.

And Shane would be okay with that, if the only thing they did was have sex. The nights where Ryan would be all over him the second he opened the door, the nights where they didn't speak a word until they were lying in bed, catching their breath, those were actually the least stressful nights. The nights that stressed Shane were the nights when it wasn't just sex. Where they'd talk, and laugh, and joke, and fall asleep in each other's arms, those were the nights that made him panic. Feelings. The feelings were not welcome, yet they would not go away either.

"And she won't talk to you at all?"

"Mrs Michel won't even look at me, man." Shane opened his mouth, wondering if he should bring it up again, try to convince Ryan to get Alt and Renz to back off. He decided against it. "How's Annaliese doing, anyway?"

"Bad." Ryan sighed again, even more wearily than before. "She's- She needs to be tied down now. She's crazy strong, it's insane. Apparently she crushed an apple with one hand the other day."

"Oh come on." Shane snorted, his eye roll almost palpable. "That's not that big of a deal."

"You think that's easy?" Ryan felt himself smile, despite the discussion at hand. "You think you could crush an apple with one hand?"

"Uh, yeah. It can't be _that_ difficult!" He placed down his mug on the bedside locker, hopping to his feet. "Hold on. I'll be right back."

Ryan blinked as Shane flicked on the main light on his way back into the room, squinting at the taller man. "Is- Is that an apple?"

"Watch."

Ryan sat back, watching with a delighted smile as Shane quickly resorted to using two hands, the apple staying nice and whole in between them. Shane turned away slightly, cursing under his breath as he readjusted his grip, trying again.

"She only used one hand, Shane."

"Bullshit." His voice was slightly strained, his shoulders hunched as he continued his attempt. "She definitely used two."

“I think we’re done here.”

“No we’re not. I’m gonna crush this.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, a playfully disapproving gesture. “You’re not crushing it.”

“I’m gonna get some juice out of this thing,” persisted Shane, his glare fixed on the offending apple.

“I don’t know what’s making me happier. The fact that you can’t get it, or the struggle on your face as you see your case slipping through your fingers.”

Shane flashed him a glower, the seriousness of which was nonexistent. “This is not my case slipping through my fingers."

Ryan gave a simple shrug. “Like grains of sand.”

“Like- Like chunks of apple.” He gave up with a heavy sigh, simply chucking the apple back over his shoulder. "Whatever. I just woke up."

"Ah, the ol' excuse train." Ryan placed his own tea aside as the taller man plonked himself back down on the bed beside him, his hair bouncing as he hit the pillow. "Aw. You're gonna be in a mood now?"

The reply was muffled. "Yes."

Ryan lay back beside him, scooching closer, feeling the arm drape over him. He could feel Shane's breath on the top of his head as he buried his face in the taller man's shoulder. It was nice. It was too nice. Ryan was Adam, and Shane was his tall, lanky apple with a medical degree.

“Ryan.” The voice was soft, gentle. He knew what was coming next. “It’s almost half five.”

Ryan closed his eyes at the words, burying his face deeper into Shane’s shoulder, feeling the arms tighten around him. “Don’t say that.”

Shane was quiet for a long minute, the feeling of the other man’s warm breath against his skin the sweetest feeling he’d ever felt. “God. This sucks.”

“I would literally do anything to just be able to stay here,” came Ryan’s mumbled reply. “Anything.”

Shane’s voice was wry, painfully so. “Would you stop being a priest?”

Ryan didn’t laugh. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

"I would. If I could."

"I know."

Ryan reluctantly pulled himself away, sitting on the edge of the bed for a long few minutes. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the sadness in the other man's eyes. Just for a split second. Shane swiftly covered it up with a smile. Ryan didn't smile back.

"Go on, then." Shane sat upright, picking his tea up, taking a long sip. "Get out of here."

Ryan took a deep breath, not taking his eyes from Shane's. He knew what he was doing, what he was implying. What he wanted. Shane placed his mug aside, moving towards him. He turned the shorter man to face him, Ryan balancing on his knees.

“Shane.” His voice sounded quiet, feeble. It was. “Don’t.”

Shane breath was hot against his mouth. “Don’t what?”

A pause, Ryan swallowing hard. “Don’t kiss me.”

Shane opened his eyes, seeing the struggle on the shorter man’s face, the eyes squeezed shut, the jaw clenched. “Okay. I won’t.” He didn’t technically have to, anyway.

He slipped his hands under Ryan’s - under _his_ \- shirt, pushing them up his waist, hearing his breathing pick up, his hand tightening on Shane’s neck.

"I need this back," said Shane with a small smile. "Before you go."

“Okay,” said Ryan again, just as quiet as the first. “Okay. Take it.”

“Alright.” He watched the clear battle of emotions on Ryan’s face as he continued letting his hands travel freely, feeling the ribs sliding under his hands as Ryan breathed heavily. He pulled the t-shirt off over Ryan's head. “But it looks so good on you.”

Ryan started getting dressed, unable to look at Shane. “I need to go. Before it gets bright.”

Shane got to his feet, stretching leisurely. He saw Ryan pause in buttoning up his black shirt, saw the sidelong glance up his body. And down again. Ryan lifted his gaze to meet Shane's, swallowing. He didn't step away as Shane came towards him. He didn't push away the hands that rested on his chest. Instead, he slipped a hand up around the taller man's neck, closing his eyes. 

He let himself be pushed backwards, back against the set of drawers, his head ducked slightly as he panted for air, hands gripping the taller man’s neck. "I-"

“Shh.” He whispered the words against the side of Ryan’s face, letting his lips brush his cheek as he spoke. “Just a few more minutes.”

Ryan kept his eyes shut, swallowing as he felt the hands move down to his thighs, picking him up, placing him on the set of drawers. He leaned back against the mirror behind, bringing his hands away from Shane, letting them grip the edge of the locker. Shane’s hands slipped back around to the front of his thighs, passing just below his hips, thumbs resting on the inside of his legs. Ryan involuntarily bucked his hips up at the passing touch, his head hitting back against the cool mirror. He couldn’t look at the other man. He couldn’t. He’d lose control instantly, he knew he would.

“Look at me,” said Shane quietly, seeing the raised eyebrow on the other man's face. He firmly pushed Ryan's legs apart, fitting between them. “C'mon, man. Look.”

Ryan gave his head a sharp shake, his mouth parted slightly as he let out a trembling breath. “We'll be pushing it, Shane.” He fully whimpered as Shane pulled him forwards against him, hands still firm on his thighs. “I need to go.” His grip moved to Shane's shoulders, dragging down his back. 

“Just a few more minutes,” muttered Shane right against the man’s lips, his mouth following Ryan’s, slowly, teasingly. “C'mon. Just to get me through the day.”

“Shane,” replied Ryan, barely audible through his heaving breaths. “You're just doing this because you think it's funny.”

“It is funny!” Shane smiled at the dry look thrown at him. "Your Catholic guilt is very entertaining sometimes."

“I'm glad you find it so funny.”

“It's either I find it funny or I find it very depressing, Ryan.” He murmured the words into the shorter man’s ear as he rested a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, holding him in place as he spoke. “But if you really want to go right now, I won't stop you.”

Ryan had his teeth gritted, jaw set, but his erratic panted breaths were still loud. Too loud. But he simply couldn’t make them quieter. He didn't move to leave.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” said Shane in a low mumble, brushing his lips back towards Ryan’s as he continued tracing light circles on the other man's skin, under his shirt. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just stay a bit longer.”

Ryan opened his mouth to object, to say he can’t, he couldn’t, not this late. But instead, his open mouth found Shane’s. He wasn’t sure if he moved forwards first, or if it had been the other man. All he knew was that one second he’d been clinging to his common sense, the next he’d been driven back against the mirror, Shane kissing him hungrily, bordering on violently, ravaging him, not giving him time to even draw breath. Ryan couldn’t even consider taking control of the situation. Not when Shane’s hands were roughly gripping his, forcing his hands against the mirror either side of his head, pinning them against the cool glass. He liked it when Shane took control, though. It made him feel a bit less guilty. 

Ryan’s head was spinning, his heart beating so hard he was almost concerned. Shane’s mouth worked fiercely along his jaw, pushing up under his chin, hearing the desperate curse from Ryan as he did so. His hands took fistfuls of Ryan’s shirt, ripping it open, using the fabric still bundled in his fists to pull the shorter man forwards as he ran aggressive, starved kisses down his chest, Ryan’s fingers tangling in his hair, a sharp moan on each harsh exhale.

“Shane,” he panted, eyes squeezed shut. He felt the tongue brushing against his skin, hot, wet. “Fuck. Shane, please. Oh God, please.” His hips were jerked forwards slightly, the contents of the drawers rattling, as Shane hurriedly undid Ryan's only-recently buckled belt. He kept his head back against the mirror, eyes closed, fingers tangled in Shane's thick hair as the kisses got lower. "Shit."

And such was the routine most mornings. It wasn't a bad routine, but it sure as hell was a bad habit. Avoid each other during the day, do the complete opposite at night. The frequency of the visits were climbing, Shane noticed this. It was as if it was building up to something, building up to some explosion that would have himself and Ryan right in the center. He couldn't imagine what, though. All he could hope was that the issue with Annaliese would eventually blow over, and maybe he and Ryan could just continue their arrangement. Maybe get Father Alt out of the picture and they could be a bit more open about it. Renz and Thomas didn't seem like assholes, and it was pretty well known that Renz wasn't quite celibate himself.

But hope has one enemy, and one enemy only. And its name is life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this one's a bit short, but the next one is pretty long and has to be in one piece!!


End file.
